Harry Potter and The Iron Gates
by kneazle255
Summary: Harry and Ginny take their own unique path to love, a path littered with explosions, duels, and cracked heads. Will they survive true love? Will Hogwarts?
1. Default Chapter

Chapter One. Among These Barren Crags

Mr. Potter,

I have hopes that this letter finds you healthy, although I rather doubt it, as you are well on your way to breaking Dai Llewellyn's record for sheer number of stays in the Hogwarts Infirmary.

Enclosed is a Dreaming Draught. It will allow you to sleep and encourage you to have rather giddy dreams.

The vial contains a three-month supply. Place TWO drops on your tongue directly before retiring. You may take ONE additional drop if your sleep is interrupted. 

DO NOT TAKE MORE THAN THREE DROPS A NIGHT. 

Let me assure you, Mr. Potter, that I was taken aback when the Headmaster instructed me to provide this particular Draught to you. I must insist that you do not experiment with it during your waking hours. Please be aware that larger doses can cause permanent hysterical laughter that is **irreversible**. Act responsibly, unless you wish to become a permanent resident of St. Mungo's.

Sincerely,

Madame Pomfrey

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mr. Moody,

Thank you for speaking to Uncle Vernon. The Dursleys are terrified of me now. Uncle Vernon asks me if I am writing to you, and I tell him not yet. It's got him in an awful bind. He's terrified that I am not writing, and on the other hand, he's terror-stricken that I will write. So he mostly avoids me, which is a great improvement overall. I will write again in a few days,

Harry

PS—Hedwig's still a bit off. Would you mind holding onto her for a day or so to make sure she's up for the return trip?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry—

Mad-eye says to call him Moody. All the owls we send you have been told to wait for a reply. We'll make sure you always have at least one owl around besides Hedwig.

Glad to hear that the muggles aren't bothering you much. No news here. We're in hiding, of course, someplace different, but since the Ministry is not after us anymore, we can talk a bit more freely.

Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is doing really well. Mum's proud, though still goes on about them not taking their NEWTs. But her heart's not really in it. She can't expect them to go to work for the Ministry right now, can she?

Ron

I had better ask—you all right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron,

I am sleeping a lot and eating as much as Dudley. Almost. Yesterday, Uncle Vernon started muttering in my direction about food costs until I pointed out that I was thinking of writing my friend Remus, the werewolf, right after my snack.. Man can change colors faster than a chameleon. He's particularly good at purple, red and white.

I wonder if I can get a yellow out of him. If I said that I was feeling Moody, do you reckon he would get it?

Ron, I want to apologize for last year. I shouldn't have taken it all out on my friends. Thanks, mate, for everything.

Harry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry, 

No apology is necessary. But thanks. Hermione says that if you try and apologize to her, she will hex you into next month. Hold on, she wants to write something—

Don't you dare apologize Harry Potter. We are all dreadfully worried about you trapped in that horrible place. 

I also wanted to tell you that my parents have gone into hiding. Not because of you, understand, but because of me. I am one of the most prominent muggle-borns at school, and the Malfoys know me.

Take care of yourself, Harry. You do not have to worry about everything. We can do some of it for you.

Love,

Hermione

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mr. Potter,

It is my distinct pleasure as Head of Gryffindor House to inform you that the lifetime Quidditch ban inflicted upon you last year has been rescinded.

On a different topic, I have recently become aware of an old and little used regulation which allows a student to sit for a NEWT without having taken the preparatory class. All that is required is the Headmaster's permission. A motivated and diligent student could do quite well working independently.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall 

Deputy Headmistress

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione,

If Dumbledore gives me permission, I can sit for the Potions NEWT without Snape's class! McGonagall says so! I would need your help to revise, though. What do you think? I still have to pass the Potions OWL, of course.

Harry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry,

Don't be silly, of course I will help you. It would be really, really hard, but I think we could do it. 

Love,

Hermione

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Professor Dumbledore,

I would first like to apologize for my outburst in your office last year. I have thought often about that day in your office and about our conversation—if it could be called that. You said a lot of things that I was not ready to hear, and I don't know if I am ready to hear them now. But I am working on it.

Sir, would you consider continuing my Occlumency lessons? It would be useful to me, I know, and I promise to practice hard at it.

Sincerely,

Harry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Harry,

I would be delighted to tutor you in Occlumency. Please come to my office at 8 p.m. on the second Monday after the start of classes, and we will take up where Professor Snape discontinued the lessons.

Rest assured that your apology is completely unnecessary. Few events in my life have caused me as much pain and regret as that day. Please know that I will strive to make amends for the suffering I have so foolishly caused you and know that I am your friend,

Albus Dumbledore

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Springhill & Dunlopp, Solicitors

Number 61 Diagon Alley 

London

Master Harry Potter,

I would like to offer my condolences on the death of Sirius Black. I am deeply saddened by your loss. Sirius was a friend and client of mine for many years, both before and after his extralegal incarceration in Azkaban. I have fond memories of Sirius' glowing recollection of your Quidditch match as he instructed me to arrange the purchase your Firebolt. He was a great wizard, and let me assure you, there are many who will feel his loss.

Sirius' last will and testament names you as his primary heir. Please note that most of the Black family fortune will not come under your control until you reach the age of majority. A full accounting is attached.

A small percentage has been made available for your immediate use in the amount of 5,000 galleons. The enclosed key, for Gringott's Vault #842, will allow you to access this allowance.

The named executor is Remus Lupin, who will be drawing a stipend for his time. Since there is really rather little to do, I suspect Sirius arranged this to aid an old and, I daresay, proud friend.

I have been fully informed regarding the singular difficulties you may have in discussing matters with me in person. Mr. Lupin's responsibilities include acting as your representative in these affairs. If you have any questions, concerns or matters you wish to discuss with me, you may contact me directly via owl or floo, or you may prefer to speak with Mr. Lupin who, he assures me, is at you service.

The last item contained in this packet is a magically sealed letter from Sirius. He instructed me to tell you that you already know the passphrase.

Again let me again offer my condolences. From what Sirius told me of you, I expect that this letter has done little but upset you. As one who has had his share of grief over the years, please believe me when I say the dead are never truly gone.

Sincerely,

Kamal Springhill, Solicitor

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry,

Well, I reckon I have gone and done it now. 

Sitting here in my wretched mother's house in the middle of the night, I can't say that I've had the happiest of years, having spent eleven with my parents and twelve with the dementors. I don't frankly know which was worse. Despite that, or maybe because of it, I remember the good things the best. And there were lots of those, enough to make me sure it was all worth it. And one of the things that made it worthwhile, Harry, was you.

I know you're likely a wreck just now, but that will pass. Just don't feel guilty about my dying or you living. I broke out of prison. I joined the Order. My choices. All you owe me is a promise to make the most out of your life.

Well that, and one other little thing. I want you to pull one prank at Hogwarts in memory of the Marauders. One completely unnecessary and uncalled-for stunt. I am confident you will come up with something appropriate. Just don't talk to the twins, they'll suggest something involving toilet seats, I'm sure. 

I have a gift for you. The vellum that looks like a copy of this letter is not. You'll have to figure out the password.

Goodbye for now, Harry, and if I see you too soon, I am going to be right cranky. 

Always,

Sirius

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Ginny,

Right off, I want to thank you for your patience with me last year. You are a better friend to me than I deserve. Thanks, Ginny, really.

I want to ask your opinion about something difficult. Sirius left me some money, and I want to find a way to give 2,500 galleons to your parents. Do you have any ideas?

Your friend,

Harry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Harry,

Once I pick myself up off the floor and get my mouth to stay closed on its own, I will get back to you. 

Although I expect you realize how Ron would react to this scheme, I still feel I should say that bringing Ron in on this would be a bad idea. So, not a word.

How are you, really? Don't dare lie to me, Harry, I'll know. 

Not taking 'I'm fine' as an answer,

Ginny

And Harry, thank you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Ginny,

Of course I agree—telling Ron is a very bad idea. I haven't told him about inheriting the Black fortune either.

As for me—well, I write letters. It helps to concentrate on stuff. The Dursleys' yard looks really good right now. I suppose five years of herbology wasn't a complete waste of time. Dumbledore had Madame Pomfrey send me a Dreaming Draught. Last night I dreamt about a whale in a tutu and woke myself up I was laughing so hard. Much better than dreaming about Lord Thingy or about long dark corridors.

What's bothering me? That's an awfully big question.

I miss him. Sirius, I mean. I got a letter he wrote in case something happened. It was hard to read. He left me with a bit of a puzzle, and I am working day and night to figure it out. 

Then there's Voldemort. He's going to keep trying to kill me. That's basically what the prophecy was about. I always figured, deep down, that the Aurors or Dumbledore would get him, and all I had to do was survive until then. But I think it's going to come down to me and him. I just don't know what to do with that. Even now, I just sort of freeze up whenever I think about it. That's what happened when he showed up at the Ministry. I just stood there, too scared to move.

Tell Ron that I managed yellow today. He'll explain it.

Your friend,

Harry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Figured out the password, did you?_

Yes. I solemnly swear I seek Sirius fun. It took me a bit. What are you? Are you Sirius?

_My name is Snuffles. I am not Sirius. He made me, but I am not he. I was told to say that right off._

So what are you?

_A journal, sort of. You can write down entries and notes or talk with me. If you ever want to see any of it again, you can ask me to find it for you, and it will reappear. If you want to create an entry, just put a dot at the top of the page. A question mark will invoke me and we can have a chat._

Why did he wait to, er, die before giving this to me?

_He put of good bit of his experiences and knowledge into me, as well as a small library's worth of information. He wanted me to give you advice when he was gone. I started out as a book called "A Guide to Extremely Exciting and Slightly Dangerous Activities."_

So he was expecting to die.

_He always knew that there was a high probability of something happening. The Ministry and Voldemort were after him, and other than a handful of witches and wizards, everyone thought him the most dangerous wizard alive._

How do you work, exactly?

_Thinking about Riddle's diary, are you?_

Yes. 

_I am text only. I can't possess people or provide a way for Sirius to come back or drag you into his memories._

How do I lock you? 

_selffuns_

selffuns

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry,

I hate divination. Damn bloody drivel.

I talked to Bill about prophecies in general. He thinks trying to figure them out is a waste of time and is probably dangerous. That's what Tom did when he tried to kill you the first time, wasn't it? Ended by blowing himself up, didn't it? There's a lesson. 

The package is an early birthday gift. No, I don't expect you to be playing with dolls at your age. Just touch the dolls head and say, "Practice session." The doll will enlarge to about six feet.

Sometimes, just beating the stuffing out of a dummy is very helpful. Since Ron is not available, I thought this might do. 

Saying, "Session over," makes it shrink down to doll size. If you hand the dummy a stick, it will spar with you. If you say, "Ba Kua," it will show you that form.

I think I have a scheme to get the money to Mum and Dad. I have been writing to Luna. What do you think about them winning a _Quibbler_ lottery?

Your friend,

Ginny

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ginny,

Wow. That was an extremely cool present. 

I haven't been able to spar much. There's not enough space in my room. But I am learning Ba Kua. It is hard and it exhausts me. That's good. You are oh so right about pounding a dummy. 

I bullied Dudley into giving me the cricket bat he got for his thirteenth birthday. The last time he touched it was to throw it in his closet the day he got it. Whenever I am bored or getting angry, I just go to my room and give that dummy a few good wallops, and I start feeling a bit better.

_The Quibbler_—that's a grand idea. 

Thank you,

Harry

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry,

It was nothing. It was mine. Charlie bought me three at a second-hand shop in Romania just before my second year. He figured I would eventually need to beat the hell out of something. "Better a dummy than your brothers," he told me. He was right.

Arrange to have the money transferred to Luna's vault, 631. She has her own. That's all you have to do.

Ginny

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Mr. Harry Potter

The Smallest Bedroom

Number Four Privet Drive

Little Whinging, Surry

Mr. Potter,

The Ministry of Magic is pleased to inform you that you have qualified at Ordinary Wizarding Levels.

Your OWLs were graded as follows:

Astronomy—P

Care of Magical Creatures—O

Charms—E

Defense Against the Darks Arts—O

Divination--P

Herbology--E

History of Magic--T

Potions—A

Transfiguration—E

Congratulations! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Professor Lupin,

I hope you are well, Professor. I want to ask you for a favor.

Could you arrange to have 2,500 galleons transferred from Vault 842 to Luna Lovegood's Vault (631)?

I am trying to give the Weasleys a bit of money. Please keep this to yourself. They deserve it. I can't do much, but I can do this. It's not charity, exactly, but I have more than I will ever need, and they have done their best to take care of me, and I feel like I should do what I can for them.

Your friend,

Harry Potter

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Harry,

Please call me Remus. Consider it done. 

This is an extremely decent thing you are doing. I think you should tell the Weasleys, but I will hold this matter in the strictest confidence.

I am looking forward to seeing you in a few weeks,

Remus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry,

Deatheaters destroyed the Burrow. None of us were there, of course. But it was rather a pointed message. Try to stay close to the Dursleys' house. We'll see you soon, I expect.

Take care,

Arthur Weasley

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mr. Weasley,

I am so sorry to hear about the Burrow and very glad none of you were hurt. I hope Mrs. Weasley isn't too upset.

Sincerely,

Harry

To Be Continued


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two. With Those Who Love Me**

In the smallest bedroom of Number Four Privet Drive, Harry reluctantly left a dream that included waltzing trees and high-kicking pigeons in knee socks and blearily opened his eyes to the gray pre-dawn light.

Charlie Weasley was awkwardly pulling himself through the window. Bill, already inside, was smirking at his brother.

"Put on a bit of weight, have you?"

Charlie tried to reply but fell into the room and scrambled to his feet. Bill laughed.

"Eeez heavee, zis eengleesh food, no?" Charlie drawled. "Moi tongue, it has eemproved, oui, Guillame?"

"Play nice," Bill said lightly, "Delicate ears present."

Harry sat up and rubbed his eyes, still feeling fuzzy-headed from the Dreaming Draught.

"Oi, Harry, ready to go?" Charlie smiled.

"One minute," Harry mumbled. 

"We're in a hurry," Bill urged.

Meanwhile, Charlie walked over to Harry's trunk, kicked it open, and waving his wand, said, "Pack." Harry's things—books, parchment, quills, socks—came fluttering from all over the room and settled themselves neatly in Harry's trunk.

"What's the rush?" Harry croaked, climbing out of bed and groping for his glasses. Bill strode over and pressed the glasses into Harry's hand. 

Charlie was inspecting a massive gold pocket watch. "Time," he said warningly. "I'll take care of the trunk and Hedwig. We have to go _now_." Bill motioned Harry over, producing a rather worn car key. Harry sighed and put a finger on it. "Right," Charlie said, examining the watch. "3…2…1…and wait for it…aaand now!"

Harry felt the expected jerk below his navel, and the world spun out of control for a heartbeat. With a lurch, he staggered and fell. He got to his feet, feeling light-headed and very dizzy, and he supposed that Dreaming Draughts and portkeys didn't mix well. 

Taking a deep breath, Harry found himself in a massive kitchen with a worn flagstone floor. He had the vague impression of a row of massive hearths to his left before he was engulfed in bushy brown hair.

"How are you? Did the Dursleys treat you awfully? This place is amazing and the history is just remarkable! It's been inhabited nearly as long as Hogwarts and we've had loads of fun exploring it, and there are lots of Hebridean Blacks here and we've been studying them—from a safe distance of course—"

"Nice to see you too, Hermione, er, can I breathe now?" Stepping back, Hermione let him go, and Harry grinned at her.

Ron walked over to him and gave Harry a friendly punch in the shoulder. "Good to _see_ you, mate. You all right?"

Harry grinned and nodded. "You?"

"Just ducky," Ron grinned. "Drafty places, old castles."

"I suppose," Harry replied, puzzled.

Hermione took a breath to say something, but Ginny jumped in front of her. "Hi, Harry," she said in a rather strange voice. 

"Well, we did it," Bill told Ginny. "We'll expect you this afternoon." 

Ginny nodded sharply and glared at him.

With a pop, Charlie appeared next to Bill. "Your stuff is stowed in your room, safe and sound." He grinned. "You're looking a bit less weedy," he added.

"Been eating everything in sight," Harry shrugged.

"Harry—" Hermione began.

"Breakfast is in a half hour," Ron interrupted. "People are up and dressed early around here, Harry."

Bill and Charlie had started snickering, and Harry was puzzled. "Er—"

"We didn't know you were a closet Cannons fan," Bill said. "That's more snitches than they've seen in twenty-five years."

"Hold on a minute, that wasn't necessary," Ron protested.

Charlie was looking at Harry's midsection and counting. "True, though," he said clinically.

Harry blinked and looked down. He was wearing a tee shirt and boxers. Bill and Charlie had hustled away from the Dursleys so fast he had forgotten to dress. He felt his ears grow warm. "Would you show me where I am staying?" Harry asked Ron more calmly than he felt.

Ron just grinned at him.

"I know where it is," said Ginny, turning away and striding toward a door at the far end of the kitchen. "Come on." 

"Nice snitch," Charlie called as Harry hurried after Ginny. 

Harry heard the Weasley boys laughing and Hermione huffing as she began the build-up to a lecture. 

Harry was relieved that Ginny chose to stay a few steps ahead of him and not look back as she led him up a circular staircase and down an empty, broad hallway. She stopped at the third door from the end.

"This one's yours," she said, taking care to look at his head and nowhere else. "I'll come back in a few minutes to take you to the Dining Hall for breakfast."

"Fine," Harry blurted as he bolted into the room. He leaned against the solid oak door and after a moment, began steadily hitting his head against it.

He was relieved to find that Charlie had indeed brought his trunk to his room, and he dressed quickly in one or two more layers than was strictly necessary. He was shrugging off his potion-induced grogginess when there was a knock at the door. It was Ginny.

They walked along silently for a few minutes.

"Look, I owe you an explanation," she said, suddenly. "They baited me into a bet last night. I should have known that they were up to something. Bill and Charlie were going on and on, and it finally got to me, and I said that we were friends and that you weren't the type to parade about in your boxers, and they said, 'Wanna bet?' so of course I said yes, although I should've known that they had it already worked out, so I really shouldn't have—"

How did she manage to talk that long without breathing? "It's all right," Harry said, mostly to relieve her anxiety. He was curious about what being friends had to do with her brothers' teasing, but he didn't think it was a good idea to ask. "So, what did you bet?" he asked instead.

"I have to make them apple-quince tarts today," Ginny replied miserably. 

"That doesn't seem too awful," Harry said.

"Well, you're not me," Ginny shot back.

"Sorry," Harry replied, feeling a bit insulted.

Ginny sighed. "I'm the only girl, right? All of them have been going on for years about how it's my responsibility to cook for them and clean up after them. To practice, for when, you know, I have ten kids." She paused. "You ever make even one little crack about this, Harry Potter, and I will have hurt you."

"I wouldn't dare," Harry grinned. "If you had won, what would they have had to do?"

Ginny shrugged. "Get me a set of dragon fang earrings."

"Cool," Harry said wryly. "I'm sorry I lost you those."

"S'all right," Ginny shrugged. "Mum flat refuses, but I am going to blackmail Mundungus into getting them for me. Don't ask."

"Ginny, no one's bothered to tell me," Harry said suddenly, "Where are we?"

"Thorost Hall, in the Outer Hebrides," Ginny replied, "Castle of the Clan McFusty. Here we are."

The Dining Hall was only about a quarter or the size of Hogwarts' Great Hall, but it was still impressive. It held a long U-shaped table. Inside the U was a long narrow hearth filled with glowing coals. Harry looked up. Above the massive, blackened roof-beams, at the apex of the roof, was a long narrow slit to vent the smoke The Weasleys and Hermione were clustered at the bend. Around them were platters piled high with eggs, toast, sausage, bacon, and scones.

Sighing, he took a seat between Hermione and Ginny, mostly to avoid sitting next to any of the male Weasleys, fully expecting another hour or so of teasing, but they left him to eat in peace. He began piling food onto his plate. Hermione was bent over a book, reading with furious concentration. Her hand, clutching a biscuit, hovered halfway between the table and her head.

"Foo's grea,' "Ron said enthusiastically. 

Hermione only stayed a few minutes before giving Harry a quick smile and dashing off, the book in one hand and the same crumbling biscuit in the other. Harry ate quietly, listening to Bill and Charlie's bantering and watching Ginny surreptitiously flick bits of marmalade at them. 

"Want to take a look around this place?" Ron asked when Harry had finished eating. Harry agreed, and Ron led him on a rambling walk through the castle. It was a warren of rooms, chambers, and hallways built around the Dining Hall where they had eaten. Most of the rooms were built into the massive outer walls. There were two partially roofed courtyards, one directly in front of the Dining Hall and another that ran along one side. Some of the upper story corridors were open on the sides that were above the courtyards, reminding Harry of balconies.

The Hall's outer walls, even taking into the account the living space within them, must have incorporated thirty feet of rock. And they were old. Ferns spilled from the cracks between the massive, weather-beaten blocks. Lichen and moss dotted them, and rubble lay piled at the base of each wall. Oddly, water was steadily gushing from a carved, dragon-like gargoyle halfway up south wall. The water pooled at the base of the wall before tumbling toward the sea as a roiling, boulder-filled brook. 

Harry found it relaxing, walking companionably with Ron and aimlessly chatting about whatever came to mind. They eventually wandered back to the corridor their bedrooms were on. Ron showed him the makeshift common room they had adopted at the end of the corridor. It looked like an abandoned study. The walls were lined with nearly empty bookshelves, and there was a large library table in the center of the room. At one end of the table were Ron's chessmen and a board. Several battered comfortable chairs were scattered here and there, and tucked into a corner was a dented roll top desk that Hermione was apparently using. A number of her books lined the bookshelves nearest the desk.

"We didn't have any summer work," Harry said.

"Getting an early start on her NEWTs," Ron explained, noticing what Harry was looking at. "Fancy a game of chess?"

The rout began as soon as Harry touched his first piece, and Ron checkmated him in seven moves. He hesitated for a second, then ignoring the chessmen's outraged protests, he swept them off the board. 

Harry watched curiously as Ron placed the black queen in the center of the board and a rook, a bishop and a knight clustered together in one corner. Then he played out a scenario. Harry knew that whatever Ron was doing wasn't exactly chess, although all the pieces were following the rules. The chessmen were unnaturally quiet, and for some reason, Harry found that disturbing. 

The queen attacked, but the knight, jumping his allies, charged at her. "Wasn't expecting that, was she?" Ron grinned. "Whoever heard of an unsupported knight attacking a queen?"

As the scenario developed, the queen could never quite get a line on the erratic knight without exposing herself to the more powerful pieces that grimaced at her from their corner. Frustrated, she moved to the other side of the board in an effort to shake off the knight and use her greater range to mount an attack on the bishop and the rook. 

That was a mistake, Harry realized, as he watched the rook and the bishop, now with some room, spreading out and inexorably backing the Black Queen into a corner. In the end, the rook swooped down and knocked the queen off and sent her skittering across the table. Absently, Harry caught her as she dropped off the edge.

"There it is, then," Ron said. "Not exactly chess, but I reckon three of us working together could take out almost any Deatheater. More of us would make it easier, of course."

Harry examined the queen in his hand for a second, then tossed it to Ron. "Who's the knight? Me, I expect."

Ron shook his head. "No. You're the rook. That's who the Queen is most afraid of." He paused. "Tactically, the Queen has to be concerned about the rook, and she has to underestimate the knight." Ron began looking a bit uncomfortable. "I don't know who the knight is, but they can't mind getting up close and personal."

"Or getting bloody," Harry said slowly, recalling McGonagall's giant chess set. He felt a pang of nearly overwhelming sadness. Ron was planning a war on his chess set. The same chess set a wide-eyed, smudge-nosed, eleven-year-old Ron had been clutching as the Hogwarts Express thundered northward all those years ago. "This isn't fair,' Harry said quietly, "We should be getting stupid about girls and arguing about Quidditch. We shouldn't be planning how to kill Deatheaters. It's just not bloody fair."

"Well," Ron said matter-of-factly, "We are stupid about girls, we do argue about Quidditch, and we are planning to kill Deatheaters. We are hiding from Lord Thingy on an island full of dragons, and my mum—my mum, mind you—is going on secret missions for the Order of the Phoenix. My little sister plays with swords for fun, and my best mate has this habit of forgetting to put on his trousers—"

Before he could stop himself, Harry glanced down to assure himself that his pants were still there. Ron grinned at him, and Harry sheepishly smiled back.

They were playing exploding snap when the girls showed up. Hermione gave them a quick hullo and went immediately to the roll top desk and buried herself in books and parchment. Whatever research Hermione was engaged in was all consuming. She sat at her desk reading, scribbling, and occasionally emitting an excited squeak or an exasperated snort. Harry knew better than to ask her anything, so he asked Ron.

"Dunno," Ron shrugged. "Best leave her to it, though. She'll tell us when she's ready."

Harry thought Ron's reaction was peculiar, but he let it pass. Ginny was acting oddly as well. She was sitting in a chair away from them, half-sprawled on the table and scratching her head, her nose inches from mostly clean strip of parchment. With a yowl of frustration, Ginny crumpled the parchment and stuffed it into her robe. "I'm off to the kitchens. I have to cook," she announced sullenly.

"Want some help?" Harry offered. "I mean, I sort of helped you get into this mess."

She pursed her lips speculatively. "I don't know," she said teasingly, "I've heard stories about your potions."

"I've been cooking for the Dursleys since I was five," Harry said defensively. "I only wrecked a meal once."

"Of course you can help," Ginny said quickly, "Come on."

Ron ducked his head, trying to hide a small smirk.

"Want to come?" Harry asked him.

"Nah," Ron snorted. "I don't need to learn any of that. It's not like _I_ am going to need to feed twelve kids one day. It's all witch work anyway." 

"And what do you mean by that?" Hermione asked dangerously, turning around in her chair.

"Cooking. Laundry. All that rot." 

"Let's get out of here," Harry told Ginny a bit desperately. The roaring started before the had reached the end of the corridor. Ginny stopped by her room and emerged with her battered Hogwarts cauldron loaded with potion-making supplies. Harry looked at her quizzically. 

"You can't think that I'm just going to accept this situation," she told him.

Harry laughed and took the cauldron from her.

The kitchens were empty, but they found a large bowl of apples and quinces on one of the work tables, apparently from Bill. Harry found cabinets full of ingredients, and Ginny called out what she needed from Harry while she rummaged for bowls, baking sheets, knives and whisks. 

Working together in a comfortable silence, they made quick work of the preparation. Harry chopped apples and quinces while Ginny made the dough for the crust. While the dough rested, Ginny dumped the contents of her cauldron on another work table and set up her cauldron in one of the fireplaces. Harry watched her quickly add a few dried leaves, a reddish powder, and heaping handful of sugar, varying measures of spices and extracts from the pile of ingredients on the table, and about six heaping tablespoon of a dark powder. Finally, she dumped the chopped apples and quinces into the cauldron.

"There," she said, "That's going to have to cook a bit."

"What was that dark powder you added?" Harry asked.

Ginny grinned. "A very effective muggle laxative. Maybe three times the recommended dosage."

"You are a very scary witch," he said.

"Don't ever forget that, Harry," Ginny replied, lighting the fire under the big stone oven. She perched herself on a kitchen table, "So, Harry, what _did _you do to Snape to make him hate you so much?"

"I lived," Harry replied.

"Ha, ha," Ginny grimaced. "I've never heard the whole story."

Sighing, Harry climbed up on the table and told her about his first day in Potions. Then he told her about Snape's reaction to Hermione's expanding front teeth. It went on from there. Even Harry was a bit surprised by the sheer variety of unpleasant, vile, and nasty things Snape had put him through over the years.

While he was talking, Ginny began assembling the tarts. "He's foul to me," Ginny said, "But it's been mostly snide remarks." Ginny shook her head. "But nothing like that."

"I suppose knocking him unconscious in the Shrieking Shack didn't help," Harry said.

"That was when you met Sirius, wasn't it?" Ginny asked quietly.

Without really understanding why, Harry told her that story. He was surprised to find it hurt less than he thought it would.

Ginny listened intently, as she went about put the tarts went into the oven. "That was a hard time for me," she said when Harry had finished. "Walked around in a daze until Easter, and I was swimming in homework. I practically had to do my entire first year over." She hopped up. "Well, the tarts should be ready."

When the tarts were out of the oven and cooling, Ginny set out a plate and taking one of the tarts, broke it over the plate and dug out a finger full of filling out. She tossed the broken tart into the fire. "Come here, Harry."

Harry approached her warily. "You're not going to make me eat that, are you?"

"Of course not, you dolt," she smiled. "Just creating a decoy." Reaching out, she ran her finger around the edges of Harry's lips, spreading the filling around. She looked at him critically, frowned, absently licked a finger and took off most of what she had put on. She inspected him again. "There. That's perfect.""

Harry's chest felt tight, and he was having trouble breathing. He swallowed hard and nodded, staring at her.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"It's just that you're bloody _brilliant_," Harry said finally said.

And they both began laughing.

They were cleaning up when Bill, Charlie and Ron walked in. 

"Are they ready yet?" Ron asked.

"Sure," Ginny replied neutrally.

Harry sighed. He should have known Ron was going to get dragged into this mess.

As Ron and Charlie went for the plate, Bill stopped them and waved his wand at the tarts, muttering under his breath. 

"They are all right," Bill announced.

"Of course they are," Ron replied irritably, 'look at Harry's face. He's been making a right pig of himself."

Harry ducked away to keep from laughing and rubbed his mouth on his sleeve.

The tarts disappeared quicker than Harry thought possible.

"I'm going for a nap," Ginny announced. 

"Tart," Charlie told Ginny, his mouth full. "Really great tart."

"Shut up, Charlie," Ginny said. As she passed Harry, she mouthed, "_Thirty minutes. Go hide._"

"Well, I'm off, too," Harry said. He hurried out and up to his room, being sure to lock the door behind him. With nothing really to do, he sat cross-legged on his bed and idly played the wooden flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas his first year at Hogwarts. After a bit, he heard three nearly simultaneous howls. Then there was silence. Shaking his head and feeling guilty about Ron, he went back to playing the flute. 

When dinner time arrived two hours later, not knowing what to expect, he snuck down to the Hall under his invisibility cloak.

Hermione, Ginny and Tonks were there, already eating.

"Will they be all right?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Once they're cleaned out, they'll be fine" Ginny said. "Though they might have to do a bit of laundry themselves, though."

Tonks laughed, and Harry pulled off the cloak. "Wotcher, Harry," Tonks said, still smiling.

"Hullo," Harry replied, genuinely glad to see her. "How are you?"

The young Auror shrugged and gently prodded her forehead. "Ran into a ruddy wall yesterday. Swelling's gone down though."

Despite a bit of anxiety about what Ron was going to do to him when he recovered, Harry had a pleasant meal mostly spent watching Tonks expand and contract the size of her head. 

When the roast and potatoes were all but gone, Tonks cleared her throat. "This is a new one," she said, frowning with concentration. Her hair suddenly went white, and a heartbeat later, red striping appeared, spiraling up her head.

The girls clapped, and Harry whistled. Ginny's lopsided grin strongly reminded him of Ron.

"Harry," Tonks said, "Why don't you doing something with your hair? Like maybe comb it?"

"I do," he shrugged. "Doesn't make a bit of difference."

"You could cut it shorter." Tonks looked him over. "It would suit you."

"That won't work," Hermione said. "I tried once when we were first years. I didn't believe him, you see."

Tonks looked puzzled.

"It always grows back overnight," Harry explained.

Tonks nodded slowly. "Maybe I can show you a trick."

"Sure," Harry said.

"Close your eyes," Tonks said. "Good. Now just relax for a minute."

Harry grinned, but kept his eyes closed, expecting some sort of birthday eve surprise.

"Now," Tonks continued, "I want you to picture yourself. Focus on your head. Do you have it?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Now visualize your hair getting shorter until it's the length you want."

"Is this a spell?" Harry asked.

"Sort of. Can you see your hair getting shorter?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Point your wand at your hair and say, 'Flibbertigibbet."

Harry fumbled with his wand, raised it to his head and took a deep breath, fixing the image of himself with short hair in his mind. "Flibbertigibbet!" he called, and as he did, he felt a tingling warmth encased his head. 

He opened his eyes to see Hermione and Ginny staring at him wide-eyed. Tonks was smiling.

"Congratulations, Harry," Tonks said, "You are a metamorphmagus."

"But I used a spell," Harry said blankly.

"There is no such spell," Hermione said, shaking her head.

"I didn't want you to think about it. Thinking would have gotten in the way," Tonks shrugged. "Go ahead. See if you can return your hair to normal."

Setting down his wand, Harry closed his eyes and concentrating hard, muttered, "Flibbertigibbet." Again, he felt the warm tingling.

"Oh, Harry, you did it!" Hermione squealed, clapping her hand together.

Harry grinned sheepishly. 

It was late when Harry finally dragged himself to bed. They had talked long and exhaustively, and Harry practiced changing the length of his hair several more times. He found that changing himself required a great deal of effort, and Tonks had warned him about attempting too much too fast. "It will get easier for you, I expect, "Tonks told him. "But stick with fingernails and hair for now, Harry. Permanent purple hair is not so bad, but a head permanently shaped like a quaffle could be a bit of a bother."

He changed into his pajamas with a smile, thinking that he could learn how to hide his scar. Thinking that this was the best day he could remember having in a very long time. Thinking about Ginny Weasley. As he settled into his bed and took his Dreaming Draught, he realized with a pang of guilt that he had not thought about Sirius all day. Despite the jolt of remorse, he was asleep within seconds, a little smile on his face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry awoke to someone pounding on his door. 

Yawning, he stumbled to the door and opened it to find Ginny nervously grinning at him. She was carrying a bag with a bundle of stout wooden rods sticking out of it. She had a spectacular case of bed head. 

"Come on," she said, throwing a white vest at him. "I had to guess to the size."

Without forming a conscious thought, he pulled a pair of trousers on over his pajamas and fumbled into the vest. It fit pretty well. He headed for the door, realized he had forgotten his shoes, turned back and found them, then sat on the floor to put them on.

Once Harry had sorted himself out, Ginny led him to the nearest courtyard and enlarged one of her mannequins. Harry yawned and shook his head to clear the cobwebs out. He was going to have to do something about the Dreaming Draught when he returned to Hogwarts. He couldn't have himself falling asleep in his porridge or feeling thick-headed in every morning class. 

"Tai Chi," she told the mannequin.

Harry followed the unfamiliar form as best he could while Ginny talked him through it.

"…Now you are holding a quaffle…it's heavy…your hands slide along the smooth, hard surface…"

When the mannequin dropped its hands to its sides, straightened and bowed to them, Harry was feeling more alert.

"That was cool," Harry said. "Can we trade mannequins sometime? I'll bring mine down tomorrow morning."

"You planning to make this a habit, then?"

"It already is," Harry replied. "I practice every morning. Just not this early."

"Feel up to a practice match?" Ginny asked tentatively.

Harry nodded and pulled one of the rods out of her bag and waved it about a bit, testing its weight.

Ginny took one for herself, stepped away from the bag and settled into the en garde position. "On three. You count."

Harry readied himself. "1…2…3—"

He parried her two of her attacks before his stick went clattering across the courtyard.

Frowning, Harry picked out another rod. "Ready?" he asked.

Ginny stopped him. "You have to attack me," she told him. "Parry, attack, parry, attack. That's fundamental. Use the momentum of the parry. Keep your stick pointing at me as much as possible. Parry as low on your stick as you can, inside my guard. When you get it right, it will feel like your stick is bouncing off mine right into me."

Harry thought about it for a second, then nodded and settled back into position. "Ready?"

Ginny resumed her stance. 

At the end of the fourth match, Harry was flat on his back staring up at a slice of morning sky framed by the walls of Thorost Hall.

"Much, much better," Ginny said, pulling him to his feet. "You're fast, Harry."

"Not fast enough," he replied, wincing.

"You really didn't think you were going to beat me, did you?"

"I thought it might be a possibility."

Ginny laughed. 

They fought three more rounds, stopping when Ginny drove her stick hard into Harry's stomach. He wound up on his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath.

"Oh, damn," Ginny swore, "Sorry, Harry."

Waving off her apology, Harry got to his feet. "You're very good at this," he gasped.

"I am, aren't I?" Ginny agreed pleasantly.

"I think I've taken damage for one day," Harry said, "Besides, I'm starving. Same time tomorrow?"

Ginny looked at him intently. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. I almost got you once. I'll get you tomorrow."

Ginny hesitated. "You don't mind getting beat up by Ron's little sister?"

Harry thought about it. "No, I guess I don't. I would prefer if it were less painful, though."

Ginny looked down at her hands. "No one else wants to. None of my brothers. None of my friends. I couldn't get Michael to even learn Tai Chi, and Dean, well Dean, um—anyway, you said you enjoyed the mannequin, so I took the chance—" She stopped and shrugged. "I know I rushed you out here this morning." She stopped again. 

"You don't have to feel obligated," she finally said very firmly.

"I enjoy it, and it makes me feel better. I think I told you that before. Anyway, it's fun, and we're friends. Right?"

Ginny broke out in a dazzling smile. "We are, aren't we?"

"I'm afraid so," Harry said.

"Come on then, let's get some breakfast and stare down my brothers. They are going to be in a state this morning."

Ginny wasn't wrong, Harry discovered. Charlie, Bill, and Ron stopped talking when they walked into the Dining Hall and stared at them. It was an uncomfortable meal. Tonks was there, but Hermione wasn't. Harry noticed that Tonks' hair was a pleasant, natural shade of yellow-blonde. He also noticed her sitting rather closer than was necessary to Charlie. 

Despite his interest in that, he ate quickly, mumbled something about a bath, and escaped to the common room, looking for Hermione. She wasn't there, and Harry felt a bit irritated with her. He was beginning to suspect she was purposely avoiding him. 

He heard the door open and saw Ron come striding in. "We need to talk," he said abruptly. "Did she hurt you?" he demanded.

"What? Who?" Harry said, simultaneously confused and relieved that Ron was at least talking to him. 

"Ginny," Ron growled. "Did she hurt you?"

"Ginny? She didn't threaten me. I helped her 'cause I wanted to," Harry said. "Look, I am sorry about yesterday—"

"No, No NO, you git!" Ron shouted, "I am talking about this morning!"

"Er, just a few bruises, nothing really," Harry said in small voice. "I'm fine."

Ron's face darkened. "I'll hex her into next month. She may be good with those stupid sticks, but I've got a wand, and—"

Harry choked as he tried not to laugh. "Ron, why don't you come down tomorrow morning? It's fun."

"Are you mad?" Ron said blankly. "You are going _back_? Why?"

"Because it's fun," Harry repeated. "And I am sorry about the prank. You weren't supposed to be involved."

Ron waved off the apology. "I believe you, mate, but my sister knows I would never turn down a pastry. And she's going to get sorted right out," Ron said with grim satisfaction. 

Harry must have looked too relieved for Ron's taste.

"As for you, Potter, I know where you sleep," he added with a nasty smile.

Harry didn't let it bother him. He felt ridiculously happy. He and Ron weren't fighting, and at that moment, Harry didn't really care what Ron did to him. 

"So, I hear you're a metamorphmagus," Ron said. 

Harry nodded.

"That's sort of disturbing," Ron told him. "You could transfigure yourself into a girl."

"I don't think even want to think about that," Harry said firmly.

Ron nodded sagely. "See what I mean?"

"There's more to it that that, I could pretend to be Filch and—"

Hermione burst into the room, skidded to a stop, and began wringing her hands, a strange look on her face, as if she weren't sure what to do with herself. Harry felt his stomach clench in dread.

"Hermione, what's happened," Ron asked steadily, although he looked pale.

"A-Anthony Goldstein," Hermione said in a choked whisper. "T-they came for his family. He stopped them long enough for his sisters and parents to escape, b-b-but he didn't make it."

Harry clutched at the table, his knuckles whitening. Anthony was a quiet, serious Hufflepuff in his year, a member of the D.A.

"The Deatheaters broke out of Azkaban. A witch was killed in Dublin. There was some sort of magical explosion in downtown London. Muggle schoolchildren were killed." Hermione was shaking. "It-it's started. The Second War." 

Ron began pacing, running his fingers through his hair. He stopped and slammed his fist in the table, swearing. Hermione walked over to him, grasped his arm and led him to a corner. She sat him down in a chair, knelt in front of him and began to talk to him quietly. She took his hand.

"Come here, Harry," she called. 

She grabbed his hand and pulled him down next to her. Harry sat cross-legged on the floor staring at his right knee. Hermione squeezed his hand.

"I'm scared," she said simply. 

"I'm more scared of feeling like this than I am of dying," Ron said softly. "I came close in the Spring to, you know, dying. Wasn't that bad, really."

Harry nodded but did not look up. "If there's half a chance to stop him, I'll take it," he said slowly, searching for the words as he went. "I _want_ to be alive when it's over, but I don't let myself think about the future…I think….it's simpler to accept there's little chance I'm going to live."

"I want you both to know that I wouldn't trade a second of it," Hermione said, her voice breaking. "I want you both to know that I choose this."

Ron nodded. "Every day…every day is important."

There was a rustle behind them. Harry saw Ginny standing there, hugging herself. 

"Budge over," Hermione told Harry.

Ginny flopped into the circle, and Hermione put her arm around the smaller girl.

Harry was still staring at his knee. Ginny rubbed her nose on the sleeve of her jumper. 

He felt a small hand take his, and he held it. "Whatever happens, I won't stop; I won't give up," Harry said quietly.

The other three nodded in agreement. 

"It's to the death, then," Ron said solemnly.

"To the death," Hermione repeated.

"To the death," Ginny said calmly, giving Harry's hand a squeeze. "Preferably theirs."

Harry took a deep shuddering breath. He felt cleansed somehow, and he sensed something like a groundswell of magic rising and washing over them. The air around them turned sharp and clean, like a thunderstorm's breeze. "You are my family," he said simply.

"And we love you," Hermione said, the corners of hers crinkling, glancing at Ron. "But in different ways, I imagine."

"Now," Ginny announced, producing a bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey. "Let's get drunk."

TBC


	3. Chapter Three

All of this belongs to JKR. I just work here. Notes are at the end.

**Chapter Three.**

"Ginny," Harry sputtered, "it's ten in the morning!"

"And you have something better to do?" she replied coolly, pulling the cork. The bottle had been barely touched. She cocked an eyebrow at him and added, "It makes a difference if we wait until after lunch?"

Where did you find that?" Hermione asked.

"Kitchen. Cheers." She turned up the bottle, took a fearless swig, and grimacing and shuddering, handed the bottle to Hermione.

Hermione pulled out her wand, muttered something, and tapped her own head. Then she tapped the bottle. "Cooling charm," she explained and without comment, took a drink and silently held the bottle out to Ron.

Harry watched with amazement. Ron, open mouthed, was staring at her. 

"What?" Hermione asked, gesturing with the bottle for Ron to take it.

Ron joined them on the floor and took his own drink, made a face, and handed the bottle to Harry.

Harry tentatively smelled it and was strongly reminded of kerosene.

"Get on with it, then," Ginny told him.

Holding his breath, he drank fast, and felt the scorching liquid burn its way down to his stomach. "Aaack yeeckh gyluuuk," Harry gasped, coughing and shuddering. 

"Attaboy," Ginny approved.

A comfortable warmth slowly spread outward from his stomach until it reached his toes and fingertips.

Half the bottle just sort of disappeared. 

"Firewhiskey is not bad once you are used to it," Harry announced, enunciating carefully.

"Can't feel anything below my eyes," Ron replied. "You?"

"No, I can not," Harry stated. "I believe that I am quite pissed."

"I say, old bean, rather quite," Ginny agreed.

When they had emptied the bottle, Ron absently threw it over his shoulder. It hit the wall with a crash.

Harry hoisted himself unsteadily to his feet. Wand in hand, he staggered to the door, kicked it open and roared, "ACCIO OGDENS!"

"It will come if we really, really believe it," he told Hermione. She had spent grueling hours of practice teaching Harry that charm before the First Task of the TriWizard Tournament.

Hermione grinned at him. 

Although Harry dropped his wand, he deftly caught the bottle that came hurtling at him. It was the second bottle that hit him in the head, staggering him and opening a cut over his ear. Somehow the bottle didn't break when it clattered to the floor.

"Way to use you head!" Ron bellowed. Ginny was hunched over, pounding the floor with her fist, laughing helplessly.

Dizzy and grinning, Harry meandered towards them with the bottles, handing one to Hermione and one to Ron.

"You're bleeding," Hermione told him.

"S'alright," Harry said, waving her off, "Can't feel a thing." This set off another wave of laughter.

Somebody thrust a bottle at him and he took it, then handed it to Ginny. Soon, he began having trouble following the conversation, and the room seemed pitched at a very odd angle. 

Ginny, gesticulating wildly, was talking to Hermione. Hermione was sitting composedly, nodding and listening intently to her. Ron offered Harry a bottle, but he slowly shook his head.

Harry stared out the window for a long while thinking about Anthony Goldstein. This led to Sirius, and he thought a bit longer. 

It was Ginny and Ron choking with laughter which shook him out of his reverie. He rubbed his eyes. Hermione was telling a story.

"-So, there I was, Mum marching me out of the muggle bookstore, and there was this-this sort of fluttering cloud of Dr. Seuss books and a screaming clerk following us and a Bobby running toward us, and I got scared, of course. _The Cat in the Hat _began beating the clerk about the head. The rest swooped down on the Bobby. Customers were getting hysterical, and a fire alarm went off." 

"Then some men in robes appeared and started obliviating everything in sight. One of them came over to me, gave me a wink and said I would remember when I was older. Then he tapped my head with his wand. I remembered the summer after my first year when I happened to notice _The Cat in the Hat_ on my bookshelf."

Ginny clapped. Ron stood up, trying to catch his breath. "I've had more than enough," he said, glancing at Harry. "Let's get out of here." He walked tentatively towards the door, as if he were relearning to walk.

Harry followed him, broken glass crunching under his shoes. Another bottle had been smashed, and he had missed it.

Hermione caught them in the hallway. "Where are you going?" she asked worriedly.

"Walking," Harry said.

"Somebody might see us," she pointed out, a quaver in her voice.

"You sound daunted," Harry observed. "Don't be."

"That's a big word," Hermione murmured.

"Well, she's right," Ginny put in, 'my brothers may cause trouble."

"And you're worried about that now?" Ron called over his shoulder. "Should've thought of that before you poisoned us."

"It's the secret to my success," Harry said meditatively. "Never been daunted. At least not in public."

"I did not poison you," Ginny said.

"You weren't sitting on a toilet for six hours," Ron retorted. "I was poisoned."

"The twins wouldn't let themselves get drawn into this argument," Harry told Ginny. "D'you know the secret of their success? Never been daunted."

Ron stopped in an archway. "Wow." 

The others caught up to him. They were standing in the doorway of a trophy room. There were a dozens of mounted dragon heads lining the walls, but Harry also recognized an erumpet and several hippogriffs. Below the mounted heads, there were an assortment of smaller creatures that had been stuffed.

Ron wandered in. Disconcertingly, about half the heads could move and were watching the teenagers with open hunger. 

"This is disgusting," Hermione said angrily.

"Want one?" Ron asked. "Nice stuffed monkey?"

"No," Hermione said flatly.

"It's a pretty nice stuffed monkey," Ron said. "Could brighten up your dormitory."

No," Hermione said.

"Just one, Hermione?"

"Let's go" Hermione said abruptly, turning and striding away.

"Have it your way," Ron said shrugged, following her. "But it would mean the world to you if you took it."

"Ron," Hermione said. "Stop it."

Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry.

"All right. You can take them or leave them," Ron said. "But a stuffed monkey, though. I'd never feel daunted if I had a stuffed monkey."

Hermione wheeled around and took a giant breath. Harry took a step back, moving out from between Hermione and Ron. Instead of the expected roar, Hermione let out a strangled "Eeeek." She was looking over Ron's shoulder.

"There you lot are!" Harry heard Molly Weasley call out.

"We've had some fun and a bit of wit," Ginny said quietly, "but Mum won't like it, not one little bit." 

Harry turned around to see Molly Weasley hurrying towards them. 

He was a bit surprised to see Albus Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley walking slowly together, engaged in a quiet conversation. 

He watched Mrs. Weasley's face transform from benign concern into reddening outrage as she drew close enough to smell them.

"What have you been doing? Have you been _DRINKING_? I AM-I AM-I AM.....FLABBERGASTED. THE LOT OF YOU WILL BE SCRUBBING STONE FLOORS FROM NOW UNTIL YOUR HAIR IS GRAY. I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS. YOU'RE STAGGERING, STINKING DRUNK!"

"Molly-" Mr. Weasley began.

"HERMIONE GRANGER, I THOUGHT YOU AT LEAST HAD MORE SENSE. AND YOU! GINNY WEASLEY, WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU? DRINKING? POISONING YOUR BROTHERS? WHERE _ARE_ YOUR BROTHERS? WHERE IS TONKS?

"Molly-" Mr. Weasley began, setting his hand on her arm. She shrugged it off.

"YOU HAD BETTER BELIEVE THAT I AM GOING TO HAVE A LONG TALK WITH YOU, YOUNG LA-HARRY POTTER, WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HEAD?"

"MOLLY!" Mr. Weasley shouted.

Panting, she turned to her husband, "What!"

"I am sure that all these young people have begun to realize that what they did was wrong, extremely wrong," Mr. Weasley said, attempting a Molly-like scowl, "And they certainly all deserve a serious talking-to about this episode and about not repeating it, but-"

"There are some pressing matters that needing attending to," Professor Dumbledore cut in smoothly. He waved his wand, and upholstered chairs for all of them appeared, right in the corridor. Harry thought it rather sounded like popcorn popping. He sat down and found a hot cup of tea perched on the arm of the chair. He took a sip.

"Everyone accounted for? Everyone have a cup of tea?" Dumbledore said briskly. "Drink up now."

Harry dutifully took another sip and felt immediately clearer and more alert.

"Everyone at least semi-conscious?" Dumbledore continued, peering at each of the teenagers carefully through his half-moon glasses. "Excellent. Now on to business."

"Young Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, "I thought it best to confirm this for you and inform your friends and family at the same time. I have the strong sense that you are going to need their aid and support. I have only this morning reviewed your OWL examination papers and corroborated the most excellent research done by Miss Granger."

Ron look panic-stricken. "I was sent the wrong OWL results," he said miserably, "I knew I couldn't have done that well."

"You certainly did do that well. Your OWL grades were perfectly correct," Dumbledore said gently. "I have the pleasant duty this morning of informing you that you are a Seer."

Ron blinked.

"Lemon drop, Ronald?" Dumbledore offered, levitating a tin over to him.

Ron automatically picked out a cluster and popped it into his mouth. "I failed divination," he said. The tin hung in the air beside him.

"Rather spectacularly," Dumbledore agreed. "It was your jokes that revealed your true talent. I am afraid that the divination examination does not have a section that evaluates the divinatory qualities of comedic asides." 

No one said a word.

"After you so accurately described your examiner's reflection in the crystal ball, you related a series of jokes. Ten to be exact. Four were simply jokes, although I certainly appreciated the one about Madame Umbridge's eating habits-"

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat.

"Yes. Well, there were six others. Three were valid predictions that have been confirmed. Two others were extremely close. One now resides in the Department of Mysteries since it cannot be confirmed. Not yet anyway."

Ron turned to Hermione. "This is what you've been working on?"

"I wasn't sure," Hermione blurted out, reddening, "I didn't want to say anything until I was sure, and I don't know much about divination. It seemed a bit odd, you know, that your jokes were come true. So I had to read up on it, and then I had to try and remember things you said and then read biographies of famous seers to see if any of them showed an ability like this." She looked at him uncertainly. "Then I wrote it up."

"Why now?" Ron asked. "What put you on to this now?"

"The Department of Mysteries," Hermione replied nervously. She was glancing between Harry and Ron, looking as if she were trying to decide which boy was going to bark at her first.

"No, Hermione," Ron said slowly, "why did you think I was a Seer?"

"I remembered a joke you told in our second year. You said, 'Maybe Tom Riddle killed Moaning Myrtle.' You were right."

Ron scratched his head. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

"Ron!" both Hermione and Mrs. Weasley exclaimed simultaneously.

"Why us, Professor?" Ron asked, "Harry's a metamorphmagus. You are telling me I'm a Seer. Why is this happening to us?"

"Excellent question, Mr. Weasley. I wish I could say it was the result of the Hogwarts educational experience," Dumbledore smiled, "But I am afraid that is not the case." He paused. "You are of an age when magical ability and talent begins to differentiate and take shape. That is part of the reason. But more importantly, you four have seen and done more than many wizards three times your age. You are delving into your potential faster and perhaps more deeply than others because you have had to. You have challenged yourselves, and you are seeing yourselves rising to those challenges."

Dumbledore levitated the tin of lemon drops back to his hand and picking one out, popped it into his mouth. "You wish to explore this talent?" he asked Ron.

Ron grinned. "Yeah."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "You will take advanced divination with Professor Firenze. He asks that you to continue with astronomy."

"Thank you, Professor," Ron said.

"Mr. Weasley has your Hogwarts letters," Professor Dumbledore said. "For the sixth years, there is a form for you to complete indicating which subjects you wish to continue studying. Miss Weasley, your interrupted animagus training will continue under Professor McGonagall. She has agreed to it, despite her reservations about additional work in your OWL year."

Ginny grinned at him. "I'll be fine, sir, I'm sure. I'm only interested in four OWLs. I won't be doing any extra studying for the rest."

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley said in a horrified voice. 

"Interesting solution, Miss Weasley," Professor Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

Hermione was making inarticulate strangling sounds, but Harry personally thought it was a stroke of genius and felt rather stupid for not thinking of it himself.

"You've been training to be an animagus?" Harry asked Ginny.

She nodded, looking very uncomfortable.

Professor Dumbledore rose. "As much as I am tempted to stay and discuss what your Head of House would think of Miss Weasley's examination strategy, I must bid you good day."

"Er, Professor," Harry called, standing up, acting on a sudden impulse. "I have a request. I would like to reform the D.A."

Dumbledore paused and sat back down. "And the purpose of this organization?"

"A Defense Against the Dark Arts study group," Hermione supplied promptly.

"Then you have my permission. As an authorized club, I will assign a professor to oversee your meetings." Dumbledore smiled. "The Ravenclaws have formed a group called the Society for Defensive Magic. There is also a new Slytherin club, the Defensive Dueling Club. The Hufflepuffs have started a junior chapter of the Dark Arts Defense League. Will the D.A. be a Gryffindor club?"

"No," Harry said firmly, "we will accept anyone who wishes to learn."

"The other groups have membership restrictions," Dumbledore commented.

"Point is to learn, isn't it, sir?" Harry shrugged. "If they are willing, I will try."

Dumbledore's eyes smiled. "I am very pleased with that decision. If you need anything, please be sure to inform me immediately." 

"I will, Professor."

"Now, if there is nothing else? I really must be on my way. The minister becomes more paranoid than usual if I keep him waiting too long." Dumbledore stood and with a pop, was gone.

"I predict," Harry said, "that we are in loads of trouble."

Mrs., Weasley was suddenly looming over them, hand on her hips. Harry was amazed at how well such a small woman could loom.

"I have never been so embarrassed in me life," she said a terrifyingly quiet voice. "Drunken. Cursing in front of the Headmaster. Deliberately failing OWLs. Where did you get the whiskey?"

"Ginny found it," Ron said promptly. 

"And you drank it," Ginny retorted.

"That's enough," Mrs. Weasley said sharply.

"I think it's best if you all go to your rooms and try to get some sleep," Mr. Weasley said. "The effects of Dumbledore's tea are temporary, and you'll be feeling miserable soon enough."

The four fled, avoiding Mrs. Weasley's glares.

Ron had a strange look. Once they were away from Mr. And Mrs. Weasley, he caught up to Hermione. "Thanks," he said, looking at her intently.

Hermione reddened slightly and smiled at him.

"You know, I could make some money at the next World Cup," Ron told Harry with a grin.

"I suppose. It's a bit disturbing, though," Harry replied. "Look at what Seers have done to me."

"I am not going to think about that," Ron said firmly.

"See what I mean?" Harry replied with a slight smile.

"Then again, what if a prediction of mine gives us a way to beat Lord Thingy?" Ron countered.

Ginny suddenly smacked her head and started cursing.

"Ginny!" Hermione gasped, shocked.

"What you said," Ginny grimaced at Ron, "about having twelve kids. Was-was that a prediction or a joke?"

"There's no way of knowing," Hermione said absently, "at least until he understands his ability better." Then she noticed the horrified look on Ginny's face. "B-but I'm sure it was just a joke."

Malfoy was a ferret the last time Harry had seen such an utterly blissful expression on Ron's face.

"Don't hex the messenger," he said with a huge smile. "I don't create the future-I just report it."

"Do you know what kind of animal you are?" Harry asked Ginny, hoping to divert her.

"A cat," she said shortly, "although just now I wish it were something with larger teeth."

"When were you doing animagus training?" Harry asked. 

"Last summer," Ginny said uncomfortably. "Sirius was teaching me."

Stunned, Harry felt a flood of anger and jealously engulf him. He knew it was unreasonable. He knew it had nothing to do with him or his relationship with Sirius, but he was enraged all the same. _It should have been me_, was all he could think. Without a word, he strode ahead of the others and did not look back.

When Harry reached his room, he went directly to his trunk, tearing through his belongings until he found the Snuffles vellum and a quill.

Harry hastily scrawled, 'I solemnly swear I seek Sirius fun.'  
_Hello, Harry. _

Sirius taught Ginny Weasley to be an animagus?  
_Yes. _

Why?  
_Because she asked. And asked. And asked. _

It should have been me who got to spend that time with him.  
_All I can say is that Sirius would have loved to teach you, if there had been an opportunity. I think you should be talking to Ginny, not this scrap of vellum. You didn't say anything mean to her, did you? It's not her fault. _

I know it's not her fault. But I'm angry.  
_At who? _

I thought I was angry at Ginny, but I know now that I'm not. It's simpler to be angry with her. The truth is much, much worse. It's horrible, but I'm angry with Sirius.   
_Ah. Do you know that is perfectly normal? _

What?  
_Why shouldn't you be angry with him? He left you, didn't he? _

But he **_died._** How can I hate him for dying?  
_What does that matter? He still left you, didn't he? Why can't you blame him? _

This isn't making me feel any less miserable.  
_Sirius was furious with your parents for dying. _

What?  
_He was. Anger is part of the mourning process. _

Oh. 

_Feeling better? _  
Yes, think so. Hrd to tell, room spinnning.

_Drunk? I can't wait to hear about this. Try to keep moving and don't stare at any one thing too long. _

_Harry?_

He woke in his bed, in his pyjamas and a bandage above his ear. His head throbbed and he felt a lot like a squeezed pumpkin. He could not remember how he had gotten into bed. He did remember leaving Snuffles and dashing to the bathroom. He remembered every gruesome detail of what had happened there, including vomiting up what felt like everything he had eaten in the last two years. Shuddering, he remembered Ron staggering in and the noise setting him off again. Before he could stop himself, he remembered heaving up a vile green substance which he had been irrationally convinced had something to do with Severus Snape.

Starting to feel sick again and desperate to make it stop, he began an Occlumency exercise, forcing away the memory and focusing instead on a memory of the view from his dormitory window of the Forbidden Forest swathed in early morning mist. It helped. He sat up carefully and noticed a tray by his bed. On it was a stack of toast, a pot of tea, a cup, and a small crock of broth. The tea and the crock had some sort of warming charm on them. Steam was drifting lazily from both.

He ate and drank slowly. His tortured stomach would only take so much at a time, but overall, the more he ate, the better he felt. He wondered if Mrs. Weasley had put some sort of antidote in the broth.

Harry glanced at the clock on his wall. It was four a.m. He had lost sixteen hours, but then, he reasoned, being hung over and unconsciousness was probably preferable to being hung over and awake. 

After he had finished eating, he dozed off for a few hours. When he woke again, he felt immensely better. 

He thought briefly about skiving off Ginny's morning practice, but he knew he wouldn't. He wasn't sure why at first. 

It wasn't fair to punish her for spending time with Sirius that he didn't have, Harry finally decided. Besides, she probably wouldn't show up anyway. Feeling noble, Harry got dressed, collected his practice kit and went down to the courtyard.

Harry carefully pulled the bandage off his head and probed for damage. Not finding any he stuffed the bandage in his pocket. Harry sat down to wait.

Ginny arrived a minute later. She was rumpled and stuffing a scone in her mouth. 

"Morning," he mumbled, getting to his feet.

"Morning," she mumbled back around the scone, setting up the Tai Chi mannikin.

Without a further word, they went through the form. Harry found himself calming down and relaxing. When the mannikin settled back into the beginning stance, Harry took a deep breath and stretched himself.

He set out the Ba Kua mannikin, and in a few moments they were working their way through that form, circling widely around each other and the mannikin in a complex pattern that resembled some exotic, formally ornate dance.

By the time they were finished, he was grinning in anticipation. He pulled on his dragon leather gloves and retrieved his practice stick. It was the challenge, Harry thought, repeating his explanation to Ron to himself. A small part of his mind that he barely acknowledged hoped to hit her in the head a few times.

Ginny waited, her face blank while Harry got himself ready. She nodded.

Harry counted. "Three...two...one."

Ginny lunged forward; Harry parried the thrust and tried to poke her in the eye. He felt a sharp pain in his hand and heard a caarraack! His stick clattered across the cobblestones. 

Shaking his stinging fingers, Harry sighed, fetched his stick and counted again. "Three...two...one."

Harry stepped into Ginny's opening lunge, slapping her stick aside and thrust at her exposed forward shoulder. She managed to slap away the attack with a quick downward flick of her wrist, catching Harry's s stick in a corkscrew that drove Harry's own stick into his head. Almost as an afterthought, she tagged him below his left collarbone.

Ginny was grinning, but trying not to. "Head all right there, Harry?"

Harry was rubbing the lump absently. "I'm ready." He settled back into the en garde position. "Three...two...one."

Harry beat Ginny to the first thrust this time, then began backing away as she countered furiously. He parried conservatively, with little movements, keeping his stick as steady as possible, steadily giving ground before her. Harry grinned saucily at her. Ginny, impatient, delivered a thrust before she was completely set and over-extended herself. Instinctively, he grabbed her stick with his left hand and jerked it out of her hand.

Without missing a beat, Ginny pivoted on her forward foot and swept around in a low windmill kick that swept Harry off his feet and onto his back.

He hit the ground with an audible, "Ooof!"

He lay there a few seconds before getting to his feet. "Isn't that against the rules?" he frowned.

"There are rules?" Ginny asked innocently.

"Right," Harry said firmly, "we are setting some now."

Ginny waited with a glum 'I've-been-expecting-this' expression.

Harry supposed that she was anticipating something which put her at an extreme disadvantage or which would have effectively ended any real sparring. "No wands in the matches," Harry finally said.

"Agreed," Ginny nodded, clearly waiting for something worse.

"I can't think of anything else. Can you?" 

Ginny looked surprised and then smiled. "No, not really."

"Then it's agreed," Harry concluded, feeling inordinately pleased with himself.

For a long moment, they stood there grinning evilly at each other.

"Wotcher!" Harry heard Tonks call out. Blinking, Harry spied her walking towards them with an athletic young witch with dark auburn hair and a windblown, ruddy complexion. Tonks' hair was a soft blonde, a striking contrast with the other girl's hair.

"We were watching," Tonks grinned. "It's amazing, really. If I tried something like that I would probably concuss myself." She pointed a thumb at the smiling witch next to her. "This is Mattie McFusty."

Harry thought he heard something in Tonks' voice which hinted that she wasn't too pleased with Mattie McFusty.

"Pleased to meet you, Harry," Mattie said, grinning and shaking his hand vigorously. "I was rather expecting someone taller and foaming at the mouth. Maybe breathing fire."

Harry liked her immediately. "I'm not myself until after breakfast," he told her.

Ginny snorted. "Let's get breakfast then. I don't think I want to do much more this morning."

"I should think not," Tonks said. "I had a very interesting _discussion_ with Molly last night. I didn't get to say much though."

Harry felt guilty. "Er, sorry about that Tonks."

She waved off the apology. "Been in worse trouble," she grinned, "although Molly Weasley may have been the loudest."

Ginny laughed. "Mum's good at loud. You should have heard her when she got to me last night."

"I think I did," Tonks said. "Need a hand?"

Ginny collected her things, while Tonks examined one of the mannikins.

"You know," Mattie said quietly to Harry, "she is very good. She is very lucky to have a friend like you."

"Huh?" Harry asked blankly.

"There's not many who would be willing to get themselves beat up every morning to help someone out."

"I don't plan on always losing," Harry told her.

Mattie just looked at him.

"I have a talent for succeeding against impossible odds," he continued.

She giggled. "You are a most surprising person, Harry."

"Surprise helps," Harry said. 

Mattie laughed out loud, and Ginny and Tonks joined them as they headed inside. 

They were the first to the Dining Hall. Harry was famished. While he ate, Hermione came in, followed by Ron and Bill.

"Make way, make way for the Seer," Bill was calling. "You, morph-boy," Bill said, pointing at Harry, "get the Seer a plate."

"Shut up," Ron said. 

Ginny, giggling, was stuffing a napkin in her mouth, trying not to attract Bill's attention.

"What's the matter with you?" Bill asked her. "Fleas again?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

"And you, Granger, you could have saved everyone a lot of trouble if you had cast that sobriety charm on your friends as well as yourself."

Harry, Ron and Ginny stared accusingly at Hermione.

Bill, apparently satisfied, sat down across from Tonks and began buttering a slice of toast.

"You were sober through the whole thing?" Ginny asked.

"You wouldn't have listened if I had told you to stop. You needed a lesson," Hermione said primly. "Drinking is bad for you, and it's awful for your teeth."

"You could have saved us all that? Mrs. Weasley? The bathroom?" Harry asked incredulously, "To save our teeth?"

"I puked half the night to be sure I learned a lesson?" Ginny asked, her temper rising.

Ron, to Harry's surprise, laughed. "I-it's just s-so _Hermione_," he guffawed.

At that moment, Mr. And Mrs. Weasley came in with Charlie, effectively ending the impending discussion with Hermione. 

"School letters," Mrs. Weasley said with a fond smile, the transgressions of the previous day apparently forgotten.

Charlie sat with his parents away from Bill, Tonks and Mattie. Bill was watching Charlie and smirking. Harry had never seen Bill quite like this. He appeared to have it in for everybody.

"Dumbledore isn't mad enough to make me a perfect," Ginny said quietly to Harry, putting her letter down and picking up a scone. "Thank Merlin."

He grinned and opened his letter.

_The following form must be filled out by all sixth years and returned to Hogwarts by September 2nd. _

Our records indicate that you have achieved sufficient grades in the following subjects on your OWL examinations to continue studying them at the advanced level. Please identify the subjects you wish to pursue.

Care of Magical Creatures ______  
Charms ______  
Defense Against the Dark Arts ______  
Herbology ______  
Transfiguration ______

Note that there are no standard texts. Any texts that are required will by identified by your Professor at the commencement of classes.

Harry quickly put a 'yes' next to everything except herbology. "Should I take herbology?" he asked no one in particular.

Hermione was already resealing he letter and handing to Mrs. Weasley. Harry was sure she was continuing on with all her classes.

"I'm not," Ron declared, finishing his. "I have to take astronomy and divination."

Harry immediately felt guilty. He didn't have so many classes that he had to worry about being overworked.

"Do you like it?" Ginny shrugged.

"I have never really thought about it," Harry confessed.

Hermione sniffed. "Oh really, Harry, just take the class. It's useful."

"Harry," Ginny said absently through a mouthful of eggs, "Have you ever wanted a garden of your own? Maybe one with wild flowers and fruit trees and a pond full of frogs?"

"I suppose I do," Harry said, surprising himself. He put a final 'yes' on the letter and handed it to Mrs. Weasley. 

"I'll just get these to post," she called, bustling away.

Mr. Weasley picked up his plate and walked over to Bill, asking about Gringott's.

Harry poured himself a cup of tea and thought about having his own garden. He decided that it would be the exact opposite of the Dursley's-messy, overgrown, and magical. With lots of toads underfoot. Maybe an apple tree...and a quince tree, too...Harry waved away the fantasy. He wasn't sure he would be alive to graduate Hogwarts. Why was he daydreaming about gardens?

He heard snickering and looked around. Tonks and Mattie had moved next to Charlie, each sitting one side of him, the three of them talking together. Charlie looked extremely uncomfortable.

Ginny, Ron and Hermione were all red-faced from suppressing their laughter.

Harry stood up. "I'm headed to the common room," he announced.

"The bar is closed," Bill told him, interrupting his father.

Ginny stayed behind, but Ron and Hermione came with him. 

:What was that all about?" Harry asked.

"Mattie and Tonks both fancy my brother," Ron said. "They have both been falling all over themselves to attract his attention for weeks."

"All they've managed to do is scare him silly," Hermione added.

"Charlie is brave," Ron said with a grin, "but really, with those two, it's a bit like being run down by a pair of dragons."

"Worse," Hermione said, "at least he understands dragons."

"Ron! Harry! Hermione!"

Harry turned around to see a flustered Mrs. Weasley rushing towards them with Ginny in tow.

"Professor Dumbledore," she panted, "just sent word that you are leaving for Hogwarts. In thirty minutes. Get yourselves packed. I'll be up with the portkey. In twenty minutes."

**TBC**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**A/N: **

Notes on the text-A fair portion of the dialogue our heroes perpetrate while under the influence is liberally borrowed from Hemingway's _The Sun Also Rises_. If you are between fanfics, I would recommend it. Always makes me pine for Paris. *sighs* 

There's also a bit inspired by Dr. Seuss' _The Cat in the Hat_, but you probably got that.

Finally, this chapter should in no way be viewed as advocating drunkenness. 

DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.

It is a stupid habit, really, as our characters ultimately discover. There are better things for you to be going on with. Besides, you are probably not stuck in a castle, hiding from Deatheaters and surrounded by dragons.

9


	4. Chapter Four

All of this belongs to JKR. I just work here. Notes are at the end.

**Chapter Four.  Though Much is Taken, Much Abides**

Harry hurried to his room and realized that he hadn't been at Thorost Hall long enough to make much of a mess in his room. He stuffed the things that were lying about into his trunk and dragged it and Hedwig's perch out into the hallway.

At one end of the corridor, he heard Ginny and Ron thumping around in their respective rooms and bickering with each other through their open doors.

At the other end of the corridor, Bill and Hermione were talking a bit louder than was discreet. Harry started to join them but stopped when he heard what they were talking about. He knelt down, pretending struggle with his trunk's lock.

"—and Charlie and I, we're all worried about her," Bill was saying, "She's gone a bit wild. Three boyfriends, all of them older. She's dating this Bean person—"

"Dean," Hermione corrected. "Two boyfriends."

"—and now she's flirting with Harry. Yes, she's growing up, and we're all uncomfortable with that, and she's fifteen and feeling rebellious. But you know what Hogwarts is like. She's going to get hurt."

"I still think you're being—" Hermione began.

"Harry!" Bill called, noticing him, "All set?"

Harry stood up and joined them. "I think so. What's going on, Bill?"

"It's dangerous to have nearly every family in the United Kingdom at King's Cross all at the same time, isn't it? Dumbledore is having students brought to the school in smaller groups," he explained. "It surprised us all. The Order wasn't even told."

Hermione pursed her lips speculatively, but said nothing. Ginny and Ron came out of their rooms dragging their trunks, their argument growing louder. Ginny was holding Crookshanks.

"Am I going to have keep those two separated all year?" Hermione muttered irritably, striding over to the arguing pair. She took Crookshanks from Ginny and barked something at Ron. The siblings abruptly stopped arguing and glared at each other sullenly.

As the four students piled their stuff in the middle of the hall, the rest of the group at Thorost Hall descended on them. Harry found himself running a gauntlet of goodbyes. Mr. Weasley shook his hand. Mrs. Weasley enveloped him in a hug. Tonks grinned at him and promised to write a long letter with metamorphmagus practice exercises. Charlie clapped him on the back, very nearly toppling him over. Mattie caught him a handshake while he was still off balance and proceeded to nearly crack his knuckles. Bill simply grinned at him.

Molly Weasley handed Harry a parasol, and the other students crowded around him, each grasping the umbrella. Harry and Ron, who were the closest to the pile of luggage, each put a hand on that as well.

"Have a good year," Mr. Weasley told them, "and try to stay out of trouble."

"Ginny, I'll send your books along before the start of term," Mrs. Weasley said. "If any of you have left something behind, I'll send that along as well."

"Bye!" Everyone said at once as Harry felt a lurch below his navel and the world spun out of control. When the spinning stopped, Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione fell against each other, but they all somehow managed to stay on their feet, each propping the others up. 

They were standing in the Hogwarts courtyard. Professor McGonagall was waiting for them, leaning on her heavy stick.

"Leave your things, and the house elves will fetch them up to your rooms. Until otherwise notified, meals will be served in your common room. You have free use of the grounds, but do limit your wandering around the castle. If you have don't have a sensible reason to be somewhere, then you shouldn't. Yes, Ms. Granger, the library is open. This year's Quidditch captain is Katie Bell. Any other questions?" She paused and a ghost of a smile flitted across her face. "Welcome back to Hogwarts."

Not long after, Harry yawned and sunk further into the comfortable chair nearest the common room hearth. Hermione was sprawled out on the floor, her nose close to a massive book she had borrowed from the library. She had insisted on stopping there on their way to the common room. Ginny was using her wand to magically prod a tattered strip of parchment into moving across the floor like an inchworm for Crookshanks.  Ron was alternately staring out of the window and at a book on Seers Hermione had pressed him into taking. Occasionally, he would report that another group of students had arrived.

"Ravenclaws," Ron said.  "Last year's midgets."

Harry stared moodily at the fire. He had looked forward to returning to Hogwarts, but the reality of it was not what he had expected. He was reminded of the Marauders, his parents, and of Sirius. He had talked to him through this fire. Sirius had roamed these halls. He thought of Padfoot roaming in the Forbidden Forest or talking with Crookshanks beside the Whomping Willow, and Harry's mood became steadily drearier. 

"I think Hagrid's gone again," Ron said shortly. "I just saw Grubbly-Plank out near the paddock." 

Harry sighed.

Ron dropped the book casually on the floor. "Harry, let's get in a bit of flying."

Harry nodded, and the two boys went and found their broomsticks.  

"When did you get it back?" Ron asked, nodding at the Firebolt.  

"When you and Hermione were in the Infirmary," Harry replied, shortly, slowly rotating the broom in his hand, examining it. "It showed up on my bed one day."

Ron was holding his Cleansweep, looking uncertain, as if he had said something he shouldn't have.

"Are you really back to normal? You are all healed up?" Harry asked, not wanting Ron feel uncomfortable.

Ron grinned. "I'm fine. I had nightmares for awhile, but Madam Pomfrey took care of that. I did get these." He pushed up the sleeve of his shirt and held out his forearm. 

Harry stepped closer and saw an intricate pattern of squiggly, silvery lines etched into Ron's skin.

"It was all for nothing," Harry said miserably. "Worse than nothing. It got Sirius killed. You and Hermione very nearly died.."

"We stopped him, didn't we?" Ron replied earnestly. "It wasn't for nothing. He didn't get something he wanted, and now everyone knows he's back. That we were right. That you aren't mad—it…it just wasn't for nothing."

Harry sat down on his bed and simply nodded.

"Hermione told me some things, Harry," Ron said, sitting down on his bed. "He could've kidnapped Trelawney." Ron snorted. "I don't think she would have been able to stop him with her inner eye. And he can't possess you anymore now, can he?"

Harry nodded again and took a deep breath.  "I'm taking Occlumency with Dumbledore to make sure he can't." 

Ron was silent, and Harry sat staring at his Firebolt.

"Well," Ron said, standing up, "I'll be downstairs."

Harry stared at the broomstick for a little while. Not much point in moping is there? What will come, will come, Harry thought morosely to himself, I'll probably meet my parents and see Sirius again soon enough. 

With a sigh, he went to find Ron.

Ron and Ginny stood by the portrait hole waiting for him, holding their brooms. Ron held a battered quaffle. They walked quietly to the pitch. Harry caught both Weasleys surreptitiously watching him.

At the pitch, Harry kicked off hard and flew high. He thought he would be elated to be in the air again, but he wasn't. Instead, he just felt empty and tired. But I love Quidditch and flying, he thought desperately to himself.

While he pondered this, Ron and Ginny joined him in the air.

"Scrimmage?" Ron asked. "I'll keep for both of you."

Ron tossed the quaffle to Harry and flew to the south goal hoops.

Harry, distracted, tossed the ball to Ginny. "So, you are going out for chaser this year?"

Ginny nodded.

"Let's see what you can do," Harry said, hoping that he would feel more excited once the game started.

Without warning, Ginny bolted toward Ron with the quaffle. With a small sigh, Harry took off after her.

I just have to play hard, he thought grimly chasing after her. I have to throw myself into the game. 

Ginny scored, and Ron retrieved the quaffle and threw it to Harry. He took it to the center of the pitch where Ginny was waiting and threw it high in the air.

He played furiously. He flew violently into Ginny twice, making her drop the quaffle the first time and wrenching the ball out of hands the second. He flung the ball as hard as he could at Ron, who blocked it with his shoulder with an audible, "Oooof." 

Within a few minutes, Ginny was frowning, and Ron was nursing his bruised shoulder and glaring at Harry. 

"Time!" Ginny called out, stopping abruptly.

Harry swerved to avoid crashing into her, as he had intended, and looped around slow himself.

She stared at him until he began to feel uncomfortable. "_What_ are you doing?" she finally asked coolly.  

"Playing Quidditch," he answered, a bit guiltily.

"I thought this was going to be a friendly little game," she said. "This _is_ supposed to be fun. Right?"

"Er…I-I guess I got a little carried away," Harry replied sheepishly.

"Tomorrow, when we come out here again, we'll have fun, right?"

Harry nodded. 

"Good." Ginny said and grinned maniacally. She stuffed the quaffle under her robes and made a mad dash to the hoops. Harry followed her closely but was at a loss about what to do to stop her. She flew herself through the largest hoop, then spun herself around in a victory dance, whooping loudly.

Ginny was chanting. 

_Ginny is our queen, _

_she's the best chaser _

_Gryffindor's ever seen_

_Ginny's got the quaffle_

_But it can't be seen_

_Ginny is our queen!_

"Oi!" someone called

Harry looked around and saw Dean, Seamus, and Neville walking down toward the pitch.

Ginny abruptly stopped chanting and looked at Harry. She hung there a second, waiting.  

Harry watched her. He thought there was something she wanted him to say, but he wasn't sure what it was.

Without a word, Ginny nodded good-bye and swooped down toward the other sixth-year boys.

"What's going on with you two?" Ron asked.

"We're friends," Harry said shortly.

"I think she's got far too many _friends_," Ron replied.  

They watched Ginny leap off her broom. Dean wrapped his arms around her.

"I can't watch this," Ron growled. "Dean's awfully glad to see his _friend_." He flew off toward the castle.

"Well, I can't really blame Dean for that," Harry said to no one in particular. "I would be—" He stopped himself, baffled. _What_ would I be? He wondered.

Where had that come from? 

Now hold on right there, mate, he told himself bracingly. She's my friend. _I _have never had a crush on _her_. I don't fancy her or anything. I just don't like her like _that_. Never have. 

See? Harry said severely to himself, everything is under control.. 

He wandered over the lake. The giant squid drifted lazily below him amid the reflection of the clear blue sky. Something inside him rose like a bubble and wouldn't go away. 

Harry frowned.

Cho made me dizzy. Ginny doesn't make me dizzy. So it can't be that I like Ginny. 

There's a bit of reasoning that Hermione would be proud of, Harry concluded, feeling relieved. 

He considered this. I must be concerned about her, Harry decided, like her brothers. 

Almost immediately, he discarded that conclusion. No, _not_ like her brothers. Definitely not. 

He tried again. She's my friend. I am naturally concerned, he thought, feeling better about himself. Harry watched a cloud scud through the sky without really seeing it.

But I like looking at her, he admitted to himself after a moment.

So? I like looking at the Patil twins too, another thought countered. 

And I've never thought about looking at her before. 

I've never thought about _not_ looking at her, either. 

I'm looking now, though, at Ginny…and at Parvati and Padma…and Lavender, too, I suppose, and Hermione, but only because I'm around her all the time, and at Ginn—

All right, all right, so I look, Harry acknowledged, peevishly, dismissing that whole train of thought. That doesn't mean anything. He shook his head, hearing Hermione's voice saying, _Honestly, Harry, get a hold of yourself._

Just because I look, that doesn't mean a thing, Harry repeated firmly.

I've known Ginny since I was eleven. She's my friend. People don't just go and start _liking_ people after knowing each other for years and years.

Or do they? 

Don't people see each other—maybe at a party, or maybe at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall, or maybe…maybe in a field of tulips or something—and don't people just  know right off that they _like_ each other? 

But my mum—

—yeah , yeah, hated my dad for years before they got together. Harry stared blindly at the castle walls. So it's possible. I saw _her_ first on Platform 9 ¾. She was loud. 

Hold on! Together? he screamed to himself, ME? _Ginny_ _Weasley_? 

Harry nearly collided with the Astronomy Tower. He swerved upwards with a jerk, but the tip of his broomstick caught on the edge of the parapet. He flipped over onto the observation platform with a heavy thud.

"Glaaaargh," he gasped.

It was a long time before Harry trudged back to the common room. To his simultaneous relief and disappointment, Ginny was not there. 

Ron was using his arm gingerly and was a bit cool to Harry, although he did wave off Harry's apology. 

"Do you have an idea what you are going to teach the DA this year?" Hermione asked Harry.

"I'll repeat last year's course for any new members," Harry said. "For the returning members, first a review of what we did last year. Then, for those who haven't mastered the Patronus Charm yet, I'll assign mentors to see that they do learn it." He paused. "I have an idea for some other training, but I want to surprise you."  

Hermione looked mildly impressed that he had given it any thought at all.

"I think," Ron said, "that we should learn one or two simple healing charms."

Harry nodded. "Good idea. I also think Hermione should teach us the Alohamora charm."

"All right. I still think we should research some other spells that might be useful to the DA," Hermione said firmly. "We should go to the Library."

Although Ron and Harry were reluctant to go anywhere near so many books, in the end, Hermione convinced them. There was nothing else to do. They followed her to the Library, each carrying an enormous pile of books.

"If I'd known she needed a mule, I would have conjured her one," Ron muttered to Harry when she was out of earshot.

Later, Harry was absently flipping through at an enormous Vindictus Viridian book and pondering what to do about Ginny. He had to do something sooner rather than later—after all, Ginny was always around, and Dean lived in his dormitory—but he had no idea what that something was.

He briefly considered asking Hermione's advice, but decided against it. His feelings were too new and shocking, and he certainly didn't under any circumstances want to have that conversation with Ron listening.

"Here," Ron grinned, pointing at a spell in the book he was scanning. "Impressive, that is."

"Innterrectiscapis?"Harry said, leaning over and reading the entry. 

"Impressive?" Hermione said distastefully looking over at Ron's finger. "I think that is disgusting."

"It's supposed to be," Ron replied. "It's impressive _because_ it's so disgusting."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "_Impressive_ means to cause wonder or admiration. That spell does neither."

Ron was replying, but Harry had already stopped listening. Of course! That's it! he thought, I need to impress her. He smiled to himself. 

Hermione and Ron were settling in for a nice, quiet bicker to keep themselves awake while they scanned for useful spells. 

A prank? Yes, she would appreciate an ingenious prank. But nothing mean, he added quickly, remembering James' stunts. Nothing that involves underwear or toilet seats. He went back to scanning Viridian's book with some excitement. He needed an idea.

"When do you want to hold our first DA meeting?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "I need to find out which professor is going to be overseeing the meetings," Harry told them. "I'll ask McGonagall, I suppose."

The three of them, after an afternoon's work, had come up with a list of what Ron had taken to calling the DA kit. There were a number of useful spells in the kit that were neither defensive nor offensive, including a simple healing spell, alohamora, the bluebell flame spell that Hermione had been using since their first year, and the compass charm Harry had used in the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry was pleased to see that there were a number of spells on the list that he didn't know. 

By the time the three returned to the common room, it was loud and crowded. It seemed that nearly all the Gryffindors from the second years to the seventh years had been brought back to Hogwarts early and without warning. The windows were open, and a steady stream of overburdened and irritated owls was dropping packages and books on students' heads. There was a crowd of students swirling around the fire, and the fire itself was full of different parental heads. Every so often, one head would disappear with a little pop, and another would immediately take its place and ask to speak to someone. This would set off a storm of shouts for the correct Gryffindor. Ginny, her hands mimicking the flight of two broomsticks, was talking to Katie Bell. Katie was watching Ginny's hands and nodding intently.

"Come on, Harry," Ron said, nudging him out of a daze and turning to follow Hermione to their usual table. They spent the time until dinner learning a few of the spells off their list, but there weren't very many that could be practiced in a crowded room on a tabletop.

When dinner arrived in the Common Room, a disembodied bell rang, and covered platters appeared randomly on various tables, along with plates and utensils. The two platters nearest Harry contained shepherd's pie and roast potatoes.

"I'll get plates," Harry offered, standing up. He headed for the nearest stack and found himself between Dean and Ginny.

"Hi, Harry," Dean said.

"Hullo, Dean."

 "Good summer?"

 "No, not really," Harry replied, "although the last few days weren't bad."

"Oh." Dean hesitated. "Ginny says the DA is reforming this year. Are we having a meeting soon?"

"Yes."

"Are you feeling well?" Dean asked him curiously. "You look ill."

"It's nothing," Harry said shortly. "I think I need some air." He snatched up some plates and silverware and hurried off.

"Must be something going around," Harry heard Dean say, "Seamus just went off to the infirmary himself."

Harry pushed food around his plate for a time before he gave up. "I should go find Professor McGonagall. I'll be right back." 

Ron, concentrating, on his plate, said something that sounded like, "Ohkershimumph." 

Hermione looked at him appraisingly with the faintest of smiles. 

Harry hurried out through the Portrait Hole. He saw Seamus with his head bowed, sitting on the floor in the corridor.

He saw Harry and shuddered. "I…I have to get…to…to the infirmary," Seamus muttered thickly.

"Do you need help?" Harry asked.

"…No," Seamus said, shuddering again. He got to his feet.

"You sure?" Harry pressed.

"I…I'm fine," Seamus  croaked, dragging himself off.

Harry walked absently in the other direction, wondering briefly what was wrong with Finnegan and hoping that it wasn't contagious. After all, he slept in the same room with him. Dean could catch it. Ginny could catch it  Just thinking about _how_ Ginny could catch Seamus' bug made Harry feel ill.  

He walked to McGonagall's office, trying to figure out Ginny Weasley. She was flirting with me, he thought, Bill said so, but…there were too many 'buts', he concluded morosely. She seems to like me, but Hermione said she was got over me ages ago. She wanted me to say something to her today, but she's very obviously with Dean… 

Harry reached McGonagall's office and sighed. The door was open.

"Professor McGonagall?" Harry called, nudging the door open further.

"Mr. Potter? Come in."

McGonagall was sitting behind her desk. On it, there were several magical quills scratching away at various piles of parchment.

"You have a request?" she prompted him.

"Er—yes, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell me who the faculty advisor to the DA was going to be."

"I believe she will be arriving tomorrow. You wish to hold a meeting?"

Harry nodded.

"You have my permission to hold a meeting before she arrives as long as it's informational in nature only. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor."

"I imagine that she will contact you in the next few days. Now if you don't mind, Mr. Potter, I am extremely busy."

"Thanks again, Professor!" Harry said grinning as he left the office. The DA was something Harry cherished, and the prospect of getting the group started up again sooner than he expected managed to override, at least temporarily, his new preoccupation with Ginny Weasley.

Despite everything that had happened to him since his first year, Harry felt safe at Hogwarts. After all, most of the really horrible stuff had occurred elsewhere. So although he wasn't exactly surprised when Draco Malfoy stepped out from behind a suit of armor with his wand held loosely by his side, Harry wasn't terrified either.

"What do you want?" he asked impatiently. These periodic confrontations with Malfoy were just becoming too predictable.

"I don't want anything," Malfoy sneered, "I already have it."

"What are you on about now?" Harry said irritably. "Look, it's been a long day, and I'm tired. Can't we do this tomorrow?"

Behind him, Harry heard feet shuffling on the castle's stone floors.

"But you are alone tonight," he smirked. His wand swiveled toward Harry.

"Innterrectiscapis!" Harry shouted, drawing his wand so fast that it seemed apparate into his hand. 

Whatever hex Malfoy had attempted to cast ended with a squawk as his head took on a pointy bullet shape. He collapsed on the floor and curled into a ball, his arms and legs flailing madly at odd angles. There were a couple of lurches that ended in muffled gurgling noises. He looked like a headless, bulbous insect. 

Harry ducked and spun around, feeling a curse ruffling his hair.

"Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus! Rictusempra!" Harry shouted blindly.

Two wands clattered at his feet. Crabbe and Goyle were staring dumbly at him.  They looked at each other and then began to run away.

They stopped short, however, and backed up until they were pressed against the wall, their eyes wide with dread.

Snape, cape billowing around him, strode past them and loomed over Harry.

"Potter," he snarled. "What is going on here?"

"Good evening, Professor," Harry said calmly. "I've decided which curse to use on Malfoy, sir."

Snape looked livid. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and detention. You will report to the headmaster's office and wait for me there," he said, his voice shaking with anger.

Crabbe and Goyle, horrorstruck, were staring at Malfoy.

"I'm certain that Madam Pomfrey will be able to remove Malfoy's head from his arse," Harry assured them.

"Another fifty points," Snape hissed, levitating the still flailing Malfoy. "Move, Potter."

With a shrug, Harry walked away.

TBC

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:

Thanks loads to all the readers who have taken the time to leave me a review!

This was a tough chapter to write, so I am ending it a bit early. All the internal dialogue in this bit was rough going. If you found this installment a bit slow, I am expecting things will pick up again in the next chapter.

This chapter title is from Tennyson's _Ulysses_.


	5. Chapter Five The Delight of Battle

**Chapter Five. The Delight of Battle**

Harry sat down next to the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. He wasn't particularly concerned. No detention could be as bad as the ones he had endured with Umbridge last year, and he was certain Dumbledore wouldn't expel him.

Thinking of Dumbledore did remind him of Occlumency, and he guiltily practiced his exercises. After a few moments, his guilt had subsided, and he was even able to consider his 'Ginny problem,' as he had come to think of it, with a certain amount of detachment. A plan had begun forming when Snape appeared.

"On your feet , Potter. Jelly bellies," Snape said, looking disgusted.

Harry wasn't sure if Snape was disgusted by having to address him or by having to utter the password. The gargoyle moved, and Harry stepped onto the staircase, followed closely by Snape.

As he expected, the Headmaster was waiting for them. The office appeared much the same as it had before Harry's outburst last year, although the shelves weren't quite as crowded as he remembered.

"Please have a seat Harry," Dumbledore said somberly. "Might I ask what happened to tonight?"

Harry told him.

"Headmaster," Snape said smoothly as Harry finished, "we cannot have a student hexing others in the halls just because he feels like it."

Harry pushed down a sudden surge of anger, taking deep, steadying breaths.

"I quite agree, Severus." Dumbledore turned to Harry. "At the time, did you believe Draco intended to harm you?"

Harry nodded. "It was an ambush, sir."

"Do you expect us to believe, Potter, that you were surprised and still managed to disable three sixth-year Slytherins?" Snape sneered.

"Professor, two of the three were Crabbe and Goyle," Harry pointed out.

"Do your students tell a different story?" Dumbledore asked mildly.

"They say that Potter surprised them one at a time as they came around a corner."

"I see," Dumbledore said. He appeared to come to a decision. "Since the term has not begun, no house points will be lost by either Gryffindor or Slytherin. All of the four students involved will be given a week's detention as determined by their Head of House." He paused. "Now, Severus, if you will excuse us for a moment, I would like to speak to Harry alone."

"Of course, Headmaster," Snape said, rising to leave. 

Dumbledore was quiet for a moment, sitting very still with his eyes closed. Harry had just begun to wonder if he had fallen asleep when he opened his eyes.

"Harry, you would do well to avoid wandering off alone this year," he finally said. "I would also ask you to avoid further confrontations with Mr. Malfoy. I have recently been apprised of some disturbing information. There is reason to believe Voldemort has persuaded one student, possibly more, to spy for him."

"And Draco may be one of them," Harry concluded aloud.

"I did not say that, Harry," Dumbledore corrected him gently. "I very much fear that there are agents under Voldemort's control much closer to you than that," he said somberly.

For a moment, Harry sat very still. The Headmaster's little contraptions whirred, ticked, and huffed around him.

"If you ever need to talk, Harry, please come to see me," Dumbledore said sadly. "The gargoyle will always open for you."

"Thanks," Harry said, standing up.

He was not surprised to see Ron and Hermione waiting for him just outside the Headmaster's Office.

"Did you really do it?" Ron asked excitedly as they headed back to Gryffindor Tower.

Harry nodded.

"I would've loved to see that," Ron said merrily, nearly skipping with excitement. "I mean, we've known for ages that his head was stuck up his—" 

"Are you all right?" Hermione interrupted impatiently.

Harry sighed and told them what Dumbledore had said. Ron looked shocked and walked along more slowly.

Hermione simply nodded.

"You knew about this?" Ron asked Hermione.

"I suspected something of the sort," Hermione replied, "but I wasn't sure."

"You should have told us," Ron said accusingly.

"I wasn't sure," Hermione repeated. 

Ron frowned but said nothing.

"Harry, you shouldn't go anywhere alone," Hermione said firmly. 

Harry did not like that at all. He started to retort.

"She's right," Ron said, cutting him off.

"You should stay in a crowd whenever possible," Hermione continued, sending a quick smile towards Ron for his support. "If there's no crowd, then one of the Weasleys or myself should be with you."

"I don't need to be babysat," Harry said irritably.

"I should think that you would want to avoid trouble," Hermione told him with some heat. "You're always telling us that you don't go looking for trouble. So prove it."

Harry frowned and began to flush with anger. He knew she was right, of course, but he still didn't like the idea of being escorted wherever he went.

"Why just us?" Ron asked curiously. "Why not ask all the sixth years?"

"Because," Hermione replied coldly, "I know where we were this summer. I can't say that for the other Gryffindor sixth years."

"You suspect a _Gryffindor_?" Ron asked, shocked.

"No, but we can't rule anyone out yet, either. Except us, of course."

They walked in silence after that. 

When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione gave the password then stopped.

"Have the portraits been asked to keep an eye on Harry?" Hermione asked the painting.

The Fat Lady nodded warily.

"If it doesn't contradict your instructions, could someone let Ron or I know if a portrait sees Harry sneaking around the castle alone?" Hermione asked.

"Or if someone under an invisibility cloak tries to leave the Tower?" Ron added.

"We might be able to do that, but I must check with the Headmaster first," the Fat Lady said slowly.

Harry refused to speak to either of them and stormed up to his dormitory in a fury. 

Ron wisely hung back with Hermione.

Neville, Seamus, and Dean were already asleep. Before he shut the curtains on his bed, he noticed a small painting above Neville's bed that had not been there last year. Frowning, he sat cross-legged on his bed and fumed. 

He settled into an Occlumency exercise and found his anger dissipating. Almost unconsciously, he practiced lengthening his fingernails. He began to feel foolish about getting so furious at a sensible set of precautions that were, after all, intended to keep him alive. 

But as his anger receded, it seemed to Harry that there was nothing else in him to take its place. He felt hollow and empty.

I'm a target, as usual, he thought. Who's going to die next time? Ron? Hermione? Molly Weasley? Me? He took a deep shuddering breath.

I am a stupid boy, he told himself sadly. I wanted to impress her with a prank, but I'm not a normal school boy, am I? Why am I trying to pretend? Winning the Quidditch Cup or setting Snape's robes on fire isn't going to win me the girl, is it?

_I NEVER ASKED FOR THIS! _Harry screamed to himself.

Then Harry had a blinding realization. He felt as though half of Hogwarts fell on his chest. Why would _she_ want to? Why would anyone willingly choose to share his life, even a little? 

Didn't she want a garden of her own one day? 

He stared out into the darkness for a long time. He didn't remember falling asleep, or Ron coming to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry had been getting out of bed early since the start of summer, so he wasn't particularly surprised to wake to a darkened dormitory. Quickly and quietly, he dressed and headed down to the Common Room to wait for Ginny. 

He felt better than he had last night. He could be her friend, he decided. She was a Weasley, and he was friends with all the Weasleys.

"I can do this," he whispered to himself confidently. He had planned an interesting practice for them in the Room of Requirement and was looking forward to Ginny's reaction when he showed it to her.

In the Common Room, Harry waited and waited, growing increasingly fidgety. He went through the Tai Chi and Ba Kua forms from memory. 

When he completed them, he began to pace, frowning. Harry had not considered for a moment that Ginny would abandon their sparring sessions together once they were at Hogwarts. They had seemed so important to her. 

He noticed a new sign on the Notices Board stating that meals would be served in the Great Hall starting with breakfast that morning. 

She must have overslept, he decided. After all, it had been a hectic few days. With a sigh, he slumped into a chair to wait for breakfast. 

He dozed lightly until the Gryffindors began gathering in the Common Room and drifting out to breakfast. 

"Morning," Hermione greeted him hesitantly, unsure of Harry's temper. "Shall we go to breakfast?"

Still puzzled about Ginny, Harry was too distracted to think about whether or not to be angry with Hermione. "Sure," he agreed, knowing that waiting for Ron, who never willingly got out of bed, was pointless. "I suppose we can save Ron some toast."  

Hermione visibly relaxed. Harry stood up, and they headed toward the Portrait Hole.

Along the way, Hermione chattered excitedly about the classes she was taking and her goals for the year. Harry had long since learned how to nod at the appropriate times without really listening. 

The Great Hall was rapidly filling up as Hermione and Harry walked along the Gryffindor table toward their usual seats. Harry, baffled, saw Ginny and Dean sitting together. He wondered how he had missed both of them coming down for breakfast.

He stopped. "Ginny, I never saw you come down to the Common Room," Harry said, the words coming in a rush. "Did you oversleep? I was expecting us to get together before breakfast, but you never showed. Are we on for tomorrow morning, then?" 

Ginny froze, her fork hovering halfway between her plate and her mouth.

Harry glanced at Hermione who was making strangled gurgling noises.

"What, exactly, are you planning to do with Ginny tomorrow before breakfast?" Dean asked stiffly.

Harry blinked. Hermione was surreptitiously kicking at his shins. The Gryffindor table had gone very quiet.

"Umm," Harry stuttered, his eyes seeking out Ginny for help, "you know, practice."

"It's nothing, Dean," Ginny shrugged casually. "I'll tell you about it later."

_Nothing?_ Harry thought.

"Nothing," Dean repeated flatly. "It doesn't seem like nothing to me."

"Me either," Harry added hotly, feeling hurt. "_You_ practically dragged _me _out of bed a few mornings ago. It's not nothing."

"Keep your voices down," Hermione pleaded quietly, tugging at Harry's robes. "Please, let's just go and sit down."

Harry pulled away from her.  "I just don't understand what is happ—"

"I don't understand either," Dean interrupted.

Ginny hissed and stood up, throwing down her fork on her plate where it clattered loudly. She grabbed both boys by their elbows and dragged them out of the Great Hall, growling to herself. She strode out the front doors of the castle, still dragging them along. Whenever Dean or Harry started to say anything, she silenced them with an outright snarl and a hard jerk on the arm. 

He figured that they looked ridiculous, a small red-haired girl manhandling two boys, one of whom easily topped six feet. 

He grinned. 

Dean, on the other hand, was looking scared.

When they were well away from the castle, she turned on Dean. "I have friends," she said in a deadly calm voice. "Some are boys. Friends do things together. Harry and I have been fencing together every morning. You are my boyfriend. We do other things together. If that ever changes, you will be the first to hear about it. Do you understand?"

Dean nodded, looking abashed.

"And you," Ginny said as she poked Harry in the chest with her finger, "and just who do you think _you_ are? Did you _ask_ if I wanted to practice? No, you didn't.

"Did you _ask_ if I was available? NO, YOU DIDN'T." Ginny was growing louder.

"Did you bother to say _anything_? NO, YOU DIDN'T," she roared at him._ "I CANNOT READ YOUR MIND, YOU PIDDLE-HEADED LOUT_!"

Harry blinked. What was a piddle-headed lout? "Er, sorry?" he attempted lamely.

Ginny snorted.

Dean, standing behind Ginny, was apparently relieved that Harry was catching the bulk of the girl's fury and was trying hard to suppress a grin.

"So, umm, would you like to practice tomorrow morning?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Ginny said shortly.

"Don't mind if I join you, do you?" Dean said suddenly, looking down at him over the top of Ginny's head.

Ginny started to say something but stopped herself. She glared at Harry.

"Er, sure?" Harry said, hoping he was guessing right.

"Cool," Dean said with a grin. "Come on, then, let's get back inside. I'm hungry."

They trudged back to the castle. He surreptitiously glanced at Dean and Ginny. Dean appeared to be at ease. Ginny was staring at her feet, her forehead furrowed and her lips pursed.

Great work, you piddle-headed lout, Harry thought miserably. 

A shadow caught his attention, and he looked up just in time to see a barn owl swooping down on him. The owl dropped a letter without landing, and Harry snatched the tumbling letter out of the air. He broke the seal.

_Harry,_

_Here are the exercises, as  promised._

_Tonks_

Harry fell behind Ginny and Dean as he read through the exercises. There were fifteen of so exercises, and he figured by the time he mastered the tenth, he'd be able to hide his scar.  

He heard laughing. Looking up from Tonks' letter, he saw Ron, still tousled from bed, talking excitedly to Ginny who was nodding and smiling. Hermione, looking stern, was striding directly at Harry.

"Ron got a letter from Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said. "The Weasleys won 2,500 galleons from a _Quibbler_ lottery."

"I'm sure they can use it," Harry smiled.

Hermione started at him suspiciously. "The _Quibbler_ doesn't have a lottery."

"They don't?" Harry asked as innocently as he could.

"They don't. Do you know anything about this?" she demanded quietly.

"No, why would I know anything about it?" Harry protested.

Hermione just stared at him.

Harry stared back as blankly as he could.

"Harry…," Hermione warned.

"Alright, alright,  I give up," Harry confessed. "It was me."

"I don't understand you at all, Harry. Just when I'm absolutely convinced that you have the sense of a turnip, you have to go and do something nice," she sniffed.

"It wasn't all me," Harry said quickly, "Ginny suggested the _Quibbler_ lottery."

"See? I knew you were a turnip," Hermione smiled. 

They both stood for a moment watching Ron talking excitedly with his sister and absent-mindedly running his fingers through his hair.. Ginny looked convincingly flabbergasted. 

Ron looked at and noticed Harry. "Oi! Harry!" he shouted, hurrying over.

Behind Ron's back, Ginny, smiling, gave Harry a little bow.

"Did you hear?" Ron said to him.

Harry nodded.

"Mum says they're going to rebuild the Burrow one day," Ron told him, "once they're sure it won't get knocked down again. When the Death Eaters are gone." Ron paused. "Hermione, what's the matter?"

"N-n-nothing," she choked.

"What?" Ron asked, baffled.

 "If-f those m-m-monsters ever g-g-gone," she choked out.

Without warning, she wrapped Ron in a hug. Ron looked stunned, then slowly softened and delicately hugged her back. He stood there with a strange look that imperceptibly transformed into something else.

"S'alright, Hermione," Ron told her gently. "Place needed to be rebuilt. Will be rebuilt. Dad's been talking about putting in let-outs for his plugs."

"Outlets," came Hermione's muffled correction.

Ron rolled his eyes for Harry's benefit. Harry smiled uncomfortably, feeling like he was intruding on something. Nodding to Ron, he turned back toward the castle, alone.

"Don't they 'let out' electricity?" he heard Ron teasing gently.

Walking away, he didn't hear Hermione's reply. 

With breakfast over, the whole school appeared to be moving outside, walking in small chattering groups. None of them seemed to have a care in the world, and it made Harry jealous. What was happening to his friends? When did everybody start _noticing_ everybody? Did girls notice him? What was that look Ron had—

"Harry!"

Harry shook himself out of his reverie and saw Justin Finch-Fletchley hurrying towards him.

"I saw Dean and Ginny. They said you were going to start up the D.A. again," he said. 

"Yes," Harry replied shortly.

"When?" Justin asked eagerly.

"Not sure," Harry shrugged, "soon, I guess."

"What about today?" Justin asked.

"This isn't a good day for me," Harry replied sincerely.

"Why not? None of us are doing anything."

Harry frowned. 

"Better sooner than later, with what happened to poor Anthony over the summer," Justin added anxiously.

There was a pause. Justin waited expectantly.

"All right, Justin," Harry said reluctantly. "We'll meet this morning on the pitch at ten. If you see anybody else, let them know." 

Very reluctantly, he turned around. He thought that something might be happening, something that he wanted to avoid knowing about. 

"See you then!" Justin called out after him.

Harry sighed. Lovely day, he thought.

When he saw Hermione and Ron, they were standing awkwardly apart, looking at their feet and smiling. When they saw him, their smiles faded a bit.

"Er," Harry started, "we're having a D.A. meeting at ten on the pitch."

Neither Ron nor Hermione appeared to know what to say.

Harry knew then that something certainly _had_ happened, and he felt a pang of loss that he could not completely suppress. These were his two best friends, after all, and he was miserably certain that nothing was ever, ever, going to be quite the same again. 

"Ummm, have you two, er," Harry asked nervously, "have you _finally_ sorted yourselves out?"

Hermione mouth opened and closed. Ron gurgled something that sounded like 'griddle widdle'.

The three friends stood eyeing each other in an awkward silence.

Not everything happens to you, Harry told himself fiercely. Let something good happen for them. They deserve it.

"Should I tell everyone myself, or should I use the fake galleons?" Harry asked with a small, hesitant smile. 

Hermione looked shocked.

"About the D.A. meeting, I mean," Harry said.

"OH!" Hermione exclaimed, fumbling around frantically in the pockets of her robes. "I-I think I-I have one…around here…oh, drat!…where…is…"

Ron sidled over, caught Hermione's hand and held it. She grew still and looked up at him, wide-eyed. 

"I've asked Hermione if I could escort her to Hogsmeade this weekend," Ron announced.

"And what did she say?" Harry asked.

"She said 'yes'," Ron replied with a lop-sided grin.

Harry handed his fake galleon to Hermione. "If you could take care of this, I'll see you at ten." 

He started to turn away but stopped. "All right there, you two?" he asked them uncertainly.

Ron grinned. "Right as stuffed monkeys. You?"

"I'm good, mate," Harry assured him, "really I am."

But despite what he had told Ron, as he retraced his path toward the castle, Harry felt lost. He wasn't sure what to do with himself. He hadn't realized before how much time he spent just drifting along in Hermione and Ron's wake. Without really thinking about it, he found himself back in Gryffindor Tower. 

The Common Room was nearly empty. A clutch of fourth year girls were surreptitiously glancing at him and giggling. Absent-mindedly, he wondered what that was all about as he went up the stair case to his dormitory.

He dug Snuffles out of his trunk and sat down on his bed to write.

I solemnly swear I am up to Sirius fun.

_Hullo, Harry. What can I do for you?_

Ron and Hermione are going on a date.

_About time. _

When did you—sorry, Sirius—figure that out?

_The first time that he saw them together, I think._

Oh. 

_A bit difficult for you, isn't it?_

Yes, I suppose. They are my best friends.

_When James started dating Lily, Sirius was furious with them both. He couldn't stand the idea of losing James to a girl. Take my advice, Harry, and don't say anything you'll regret later. Believe me, you three will adjust. The Marauders did, eventually._

Eventually?

_Sirius was horrible to them. It was Remus that talked some sense into him in the end. It took some time, and one or two hexes, but Sirius finally realized he wasn't losing James as much as gaining a place to eat dinner._

Harry sighed and put down his quill. Snuffles was right, he reckoned. He _would_ adapt to Hermione and Ron. Eventually.

It made sense, in a way, Harry decided. Hermione thinks too much, and Ron…well, Ron has had a spot of trouble with brains in the past, hadn't he? It balances out in the end, Harry supposed.  And a place to eat dinner would be dead useful. Grinning, he picked up his quill again. 

Just two hexes? he wrote, which ones? 

_Well, maybe several, but let's not go there._

I'll write Professor Lupin and ask him then.

_Let's talk about you, Harry. Anyone you might fancy?_

Why do you ask?

_Mostly to change the subject. But there is, isn't there?_

No.

_Nobody?_

Nobody.

_Do you like boys, Harry? If you do, I'll understand, and I'll try to help you the best I can, but my experience is limited to—_

NO! NO! I like girls! Really I do!__

_That's nice. Which ones? Sirius heard the Weasley boys talking about a pair of twins in your year. Do you like one of them?_

Padma and Parvati. They are good-looking all right. I took Parvati to the Yule Ball in my fourth year. I didn't have very good time.

_What about that girl you dated for a while last year?_

Yes, I liked her, but it didn't work out. Hold on—you knew I like girls before you asked, didn't you?

_Got me there. There's someone you like, though, isn't there?_

Fine, yes, all right, you win. There is. 

_Have you told her how you feel? Asked her out?_

No. I'm her friend. She's dating someone else. 

_Do you fancy Hermione?_

No, of course not! I'd go mad watching her read all the time. I'd like a girl that's a bit less obsessed about grades and who knows a joke when she hears it.

_HAH! It's Ginny Weasley!_

I am tempted to throw you in the fire, do you know that? 

Am I that obvious?

_Not at all, Harry. It's just that you don't have that many friends. So tell me again, why you won't talk with her about how you feel?_

She'd be mad to date me. She deserves more than I can give her.

_What are you talking about? You are decent, nice, honest to a fault, humble, and rich as Midas. You're young, reasonably intelligent, and funny. You have all your teeth, no warts, and no extra appendages. Oh yes, let's not forget that you killed a sixty foot basilisk for her._

I also have a dark wizard whose hobby is thinking up horrible ways to kill me. I'm being hunted, remember? She'll never have a normal life while she's with me. Dean can give her that.

_Shouldn't Ginny be allowed to decide for herself what she wants? Don't you deserve the chance for some happiness? _

_You are talking yourself out of a relationship before it even happens. _

Come again? 

_You have thought up a reason to hide yourself from her. That's wrong. Decide what you are going to do about your feelings together._

What if she laughs at me or something?

_She wouldn't do that, and you know it. Just talk to her._

Harry stared Snuffles' advice for a long time.

Finally, realizing he was going to be late, he tucked Snuffles into a pocket and went out to round up D.A. members. Wandering around the grounds, he ran into Terry Boot and Susan Bones near the Whomping Willow. They told him that everyone knew about the meeting and were probably already waiting for him on the Quidditch pitch. The three of them headed to the meeting together.

They passed a group of smirking girls, Ravenclaws this time, and one called out archly, "Going to _practice_, Potter?" 

"Shut your cake hole, Amanda!" Terry, himself a Ravenclaw, yelled. "Silly cow," he muttered.

"You should stay with your own, Boot!" she shouted back.

Terry frowned and walked faster.

"What's she on about?" Harry asked him.

"There's a Ravenclaw defense club," Terry replied, shrugging, "Michael and Cho organized it, but I'd rather stay with the D.A." He looked Harry in the eyes. "Means something," he said.

"Cho's pretty talented," Harry said clinically. "She learned the Patronus Charm in no time at all."

Susan grinned and clapped Harry on the shoulder. He stumbled a bit. 

"There's a Hufflepuff club, too," she told him, "but I'm sticking with you. You're a great teacher. 'Sides, those Defense League blokes give me the willies."

"Umm, thanks," Harry said sheepishly. 

The Quidditch pitch was packed. Harry stopped walking and stared. 

"Whole school joining the D.A.?" Terry asked Harry.

"I don't know," Harry said tightly through a surge of fear.

It did appear that the entire school was there. Harry was finding it difficult to swallow. Something was happening, and he was sure that it was going to happen to him. It always did.

The stands were full, and students were milling around. Some had brought picnics, and butterbeer bottles littered the pitch. The crowd was deafening, and it vaguely reminded Harry of a nightmarish school outing. He fought down a surge of panic.

"There they are," Susan said, pointing to midfield. "Come on, then, maybe they know what's happening."

Weak-kneed, Harry followed her. The D.A. was standing in a tight group looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Where have you been, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"What's happening?" Harry asked.

"Snape," Ron spat.

"Great," Harry muttered, noticing the black-robed potions master striding toward him. 

"Potter," he snarled. "Finally decided to grace us with you presence, I see."

Hermione and Ron turned to face Snape and moved in closer to Harry.

"Easy, Harry," Hermione pleaded in the inaudible whisper she had perfected over five years of potions classes. "Please, please, don't—"

"Good morning, Professor," Harry replied, "pleasant day, isn't it?"

Snape's lips curled. "Watch your tongue, Potter, or I'll make sure you spend the entire year in detention."

"What can I do for you, professor? "I have permission from Professor McGonagall to hold an informational meeting for the D.A.," Harry rushed on defensively, "I wasn't expecting the whole school to—"

"Cease your babbling, Potter, " Snape cut him off, "I have already spoken to Professor McGonagall. I thought, however, that since you claim to be _such_ a proficient dueler, you might wish to prove it."

"Professor, if you would please reconsider, this might not be such a good idea," Hermione said desperately.

"I do not recall asking for your opinion, Granger," Snape hissed at her.

Harry felt Ron trembling with anger.

"What did you have in mind, Professor?" Harry asked coldly.

"A duel," he said with a smirk, "to show your fan club here what you really are."

Harry could hear, under the din of the crowd, angry muttering from the D.A. members arrayed behind him. "Fine," Harry spat, "who? Malfoy?"

"Oh no, Potter," Snape smiled nastily, "Mr. Malfoy is still in the Infirmary recovering from your ambush."

If Harry had been nervous before, he couldn't remember it. Focusing, he stared at Snape with the blankest, emptiest look he could muster, struggling to keep his anger out of sight.

"Leman Crowley happened to stop by for a chat, and he thought it would be an interesting exercise," Snape continued. 

Harry nodded.

"Five minutes," Snape said, striding off. He was as happy as Harry had ever seen him.

"Who is Leman Crowley?" Ron asked blankly.

"Slytherin," Padma Patil volunteered, "graduated two years ago. He's really good, I hear. He competes nationally."

The Slytherins were clearing a space on the pitch, bullying students to the sidelines.

"Stopped by for a chat. Right," Ron snorted. 

"You can do it," Lavender said confidently.

"Give him hell, Harry," Neville added.

"Ron," Hermione ordered, "we need to move out of the way before the Slytherins get here."  

Without waiting, Hermione grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him away. "You have to lose," she told him in an urgent whisper, "don't reveal how good you really are. Something is going on, and I don't understand what's hap—"

The center of the field was quickly emptying of milling Slytherins, who were swaggering past Harry and Hermione and over to the sideline opposite the D.A. Snape remained standing next to a whippet-thin, stern-faced young man with a shaved head.  

"I'll think about it," Harry told her.

Hermione reluctantly retreated toward the sideline, very evidently not believing him.

Harry glanced back at the D.A. members who were shouting and cheering for him already. Frowning, he looked around the pitch at all the faces, variously waving bottles, shouting, laughing, booing and cheering.

He stepped toward Snape and Crowley.

"I'm ready," he told them calmly, pulling his wand out.

Crowley glared and grimaced at him from under his eyebrows, so Harry could get a good look at his shaven head.

"Are you trying to blind me with the glare?" Harry asked him.

"Back up until I tell you to stop," Snape ordered.

Harry walked backwards. Snape drifted along with him. 

"I won't be standing anywhere that you could curse me accidentally," Snape told him softly.

"I'm not my father," Harry retorted.

"No, you are not," Snape snarled, "you are yet another arrogant little boy who thinks the entire universe revolves him—stop here—a delusion that happens to be fatal for those around you."

Harry felt icy. His hands clenched, and he was shaking. "If I'm alive after I graduate," he said flatly, "I will be paying you a visit. It won't be a social call."

"Your arrogance, Potter, is as profound as your stupidity, " Snape sneered at him as he moved away in a swirl of black.

"Bow!" Snape shouted from a safe distance.

Harry inclined his head the merest fraction, mimicking Crowley's own minimal response to Snape's command. He reckoned Crowley was about ten yards away.

"At the ready," Snape instructed. There was a heartbeat's pause. 

"DUEL!" he bellowed.

Crowley was quick. "Tarantallegra! Stupefy!"

Harry jumped sideways, shouting, "Expelliarmus!"

Crowley easily sidestepped Harry's spell and without the slightest hesitation, fired off a string of curses. "Stupefy! Silencio! Stupefy!"

Harry dived, feeling hexes pass over his head. He rolled to his feet, and tried to cast a hex, but Crowley beat him to it.

"LOCOMOTOR MORTIS!" Crowley bellowed.

Harry dodged out of the way and yelled, "Impedimentia!" 

"Protego! Aeleolous!" Crowley shouted.

Harry scrambled out of the way of his own reflected Impediment charm and yelped "Protego!" in an off-balanced attempt to throw Crowley's curse back at him. 

Harry realized an instant too late that the spell wasn't aimed at him directly. Instead, it blasted the ground at his feet, sending a shower of dirt into his face. 

Briefly blinded and trying to shake the dirt from his eyes, Harry instinctively spun to his left, screaming, "_RELASHIO_!"

Showers of red and gold sparks shot from his wand spraying the approximate area where Harry thought Crowley was.

"Ow!" Crowley yelped..

"Dirtdiwasi!" Harry bellowed.  

A clod of dirt shot into Crowley's mouth, and he choked.

"_EXPELLIARMUS_!" Harry roared, putting everything he had behind the spell.

It was like Crowley had been hit by a truck. The spell lifted him off the ground and knocked him back twenty feet. 

Harry deftly snatched Crowley's wand out of the air.

The noise from the crowd was deafening. His pulse hammering in his ears, Harry leaned over with his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.  

Crowley was on his hands and knees spitting out dirt.  

After a moment, Harry straightened and ignoring the roaring crowd, walked over to Snape. He handed the professor Crowley's wand.

"I'm tired of being everyone's bloody scapegoat. I'm tired of seeing my friends abused," Harry told him, panting from exertion. "If you want to continue this game, you'd better have a hand on your wand."

"I'll have you expelled, Potter," Snape said flatly.

"So do it. I have a class to teach." Harry turned his back on Snape and went to meet the D.A.

He was immediately surrounded his friends' happy faces. Half tried to shake his hand, and the other half pummeled him on the back. Padma hugged him, and Susan kissed him on his cheek. 

Smiling sheepishly, he tried to say something, but Ron cut him off.

"If you say you just got lucky, Harry," Ron yelled at him, 'I'll smack you."

"But—" Harry started.

"Don't say it!" the D.A. shouted at him.

"But—" Harry started again.

"You were brilliant, Harry, really," Ginny assured him.

"Was I?" Harry asked, surprised at the idea. 

"YES!" the D.A. bellowed triumphantly, clapping and stamping their feet.

They wanted _him_ to be proud and happy, Harry realized. They cared about what _he_ thought about it. Harry just stood there for a moment, smiling happily.

Alright, alright, that's enough," Ron said with finality, "let's give him some room to breathe."

"It's the other dueling and defense clubs," Justin said, looking over Harry's shoulder, "looks like they're recruiting. Sprout's there with the Hufflepuffs."

"Flitwick and Snape are with their clubs, too," Dean added, standing on his toes and craning his neck.

"Bloody giraffe," Ron muttered in Harry's ear.

"Who's our faculty adviser?" Zachary Smith asked a bit suspiciously. "McGonagall?"

"No," Harry told him, "the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, whoever that is, has been assigned to us."

The look on Smith's face plainly indicated his doubt that this was going to turn out well.

A number of younger students, mostly Gryffindor second and third years, were beginning to converge on the D.A. They stopped nervously on the edge of the group, unsure of what to do. 

Hermione made her way over to them. "Yes?" she asked them gently.

"We want to join your club," a small boy squeaked.

Ron and Harry and walked over to them. The boy looked at Harry with a mixture of fear and awe.

"All right," Harry shrugged.

"I'll sign them up, Harry," Hermione offered with a smile.

"Line up, runts!" Ron shouted. 

"Can you all hear me?" Harry asked. Assured that everyone could, he continued. "Good. Just to touch on organizational stuff, we will be using fake galleons to send meeting notifications again this year. We'll have new ones made by the next meeting. Anyone have an issue with 8 o'clock Wednesday night?

"Right then. 8 o'clock Wednesday it is," Harry confirmed. "We'll be reviewing what we learned last year for at least one meeting—"

"More if it's necessary," Harry said firmly over their groans. "After that, for those of you who haven't mastered the Patronus Charm, I'll be setting aside an extra fifteen minutes at the end of each meeting to work on it. We all need to master that one."

"What about us?" a second year asked from the line. "We don't know anything."

Harry thought about it. "We'll schedule a second weekly meeting for the beginners," he decided. "Tuesday night?"

Taking younger students' excited nods for a confirmation, he went on. "That's settled then. We'll be concentrating first on simple spells that you already know," he added.

The second and third years looked severely disappointed. Harry looked at them sternly. "Even simple spells can be extremely useful. Ron over there defeated a mountain troll in his first year with a levitation charm."

The children goggled at Ron, who started to blush. "It was nothing," he muttered.

"Knocked the troll out with his own club," Harry said grinning.

"Hullo, what's this?" Colin Creevey said, pointing towards the castle.

Harry saw a tall, gaunt witch wrapped in a black shawl walking towards them. She had a remarkably pointy nose and inconceivably tangled and ropey masses of dark green hair.

"You Harry Potter?" she barked. "This Dumbledore's Army?"

Harry mutely nodded.

"I'm your faculty adviser," she said. "Professor Green. Well, get on with it then. I don't have all day," she said irritably. "Let's see what you can do."

"You heard the professor," Harry called out, "pair off!"

"Practice disarming and blocking," he told them when everyone was partnered and settled. "Ready? BEGIN!"

Wanting to give them a little time to warm up before he started patrolling, he visited Ron and Hermione who were just finishing signing up the new members. 

The younger students were excitedly watching the older ones. 

"Do you think you could run this class for me?" he asked Ron and Hermione. "I know you have these charms down cold."

Ron started to say something but Hermione beat him to it.

"I'd love to!" she beamed.

"I have an idea, if you like it," Harry said. "I thought maybe you could show them the charm I used to choke Crowley."

"Yeah," Ron said, "they'd like that, I think."

"Accio pebbles! Accio bottles!" Harry called.

Very quickly piles of butterbeer bottles and pebbles began forming at his feet.

"Ohhh," Hermione said, "That's really clever, Harry. They have to get the pebble in the bottle."

"Oi, you lot," Ron called, "come over here and take a bottle and some pebbles."

Harry nodded and smiled at Ron. "I'll be drifting back and forth if you need anything."

Harry walked slowly, watching the duelists. Overall, he was pleased with what he saw, and he suspected that most of them had been practicing secretly over the break. He was less pleased with some of the pairings.

Lavender was rusty, and her partner, Parvati, was coasting through the exercise. Oddly, it was Padma who was looking out of shape matched against Ernie MacMillan.

Katie Bell's reflexes were simply too fast for Hannah Abbot, who was losing each bout so quickly that neither girl was really being challenged.

Neville had improved enormously, he noticed, methodically blocking attack after attack from Seamus, who was growing increasingly frustrated by his inability to take Neville's wand from him. 

Ginny and Dean weren't doing very well either. Ginny, looking extremely irritated, was methodically and regularly taking his wand with an ever-increasing amount of force. Dean, looking increasingly mussed, was awkwardly trying to avoid throwing any spells in her direction, not wanting to hex his girlfriend.

"_STOP!" _Harry bellowed. 

"Excellent!" he congratulated them. "I want to mix you up a bit, though. Dean, you're with Neville. Ginny and Katie, Hannah and Seamus, Ernie and Parvati, Padma and Lavender," Harry ticked off on his fingers.

_Thanks,_ Ginny mouthed to Harry as she walked over to Katie. Harry grinned and shrugged as if to say don't mention it.

"If I didn't know it was against the law," Harry said, "I would think you lot have been practicing, so let's get to the fun stuff. You can use any spell we learned last year, as long as or it wears off quickly or you know the countercurse for it. Yes, Dennis, that includes stunners. Best spread out as far as you can."

Harry waited for the pairs to move away from the others. "Ready? _GO_!"

Harry watched them for a minute. Satisfied that everyone was under control and following the rules, he went to check on Hermione and Ron. They had the new members lined up in a row, shooting the pebbles into bottles. It reminded Harry of a muggle firing range. Hermione was pacing slowly behind the firing line, stopping every now and again to make suggestions and corrections. 

Ron was working with two students who were obviously having trouble with the spell. Much to Harry's surprise, Ron was speaking slowly and patiently.

"You have to think hard about where you want the pebble to go," Ron explained, "look at the bottle…concentrate on the opening."

Not wanting to disrupt them, Harry returned to the older D.A. class. They were already settling into familiar D.A. meeting noises and rhythms. Harry watched them.

Professor Green joined him. Neither spoke for a while.

"So, Potter, what do you see?" she suddenly asked him in a gravelly voice.

"They aren't moving around much," Harry said. "except for Katie and Ginny."

"The two girls you matched?"

Harry nodded.

"Quidditch players?" she asked.

"Yeah, chasers," Harry replied distractedly, watching the Creeveys carefully. Both had a tendency to get over-enthusiastic. While he was watching, they accidentally ignited each other's hair. "_DENNIS! COLIN! Come here!" _Harry barked.

The brothers approached Harry sheepishly. Colin had a patch of missing hair on the top of his head, and Dennis had lost a sideburn. 

Harry wrinkled his nose at the stench of burnt hair. "Control is important," Harry told them. "I want you to stop whenever you feel yourself  beginning to get excited. Then calm down and start again."

Colin nodded.

"Go over there," Harry said with a rueful smile, pointing to an empty area away from everyone, "so if you forget, you won't hit anyone else."

"Right!" Dennis said, skipping off. Colin ran after him.

"You have a talent for teaching," the professor observed.

"Thanks," Harry said, thinking that he had enough bad teachers to know what not to do.

"I have to cut this short. I've only just arrived," Green said abruptly.

Harry nodded and took a deep breath, wishing had had remembered his whistle. "_STOP_!" he shouted, waving them all in.

Hermione and Ron set the younger members to cleaning up the bottles and pebbles.

"That's all for today," he said when everyone had gathered around him.

People were putting their wands away and talking boisterously about the duels.

"One moment," the professor said sharply. "As excellent a tutor as Potter appears to be," she said, "it is very clear that he has neglected to discuss basic wand safety with you."

Harry looked at her doubtfully.

"A wand be never be used to keep one's hair up," Green snapped, eyeing Luna Lovegood.

Zacharias Smith had a miserable 'I just knew it' look.

"You should never, ever, tuck a wand in you back pocket," she barked, "knew someone who lost a buttock that way. Knew a wizard who used to keep his wand in his front pocket. It wouldn't do in polite society to discuss the twiddley bits _he_ scorched, I'll tell you."

Several students, looking horrified, were yanking their wands out and holding them at arms' length.

It can't be, Harry thought, it can't. He reconsidered. Well, actually, it could. 

"Right," Harry said with a badly concealed grin. "Everyone got their wands stowed? Buttocks still on? Any scorching? Great! Meeting's over."

The D.A. fled, except for the Weasleys and Hermione. Ron was staring curiously at Harry. Ginny and Hermione were looking speculatively at the new professor.

A lock of Professor Green's hair turned lime green for instant then shifted to bubblegum pink before fading to dark green. She grinned at them.

"Wotcher, Tonks," Harry smiled quietly.

The students crowded around her.

"What are you doing here?" Ginny asked, nearly bouncing with excitement.

"Defense professor," Tonks shrugged. "The Ministry wanted an Auror placed at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore needed the Defense position filled.

"I'm too junior to get anything interesting," she added, rolling her eyes.

"Don't be so sure," Hermione pointed out. "The only professor we've had who managed a year unscathed was Remus Lupin."

"Not much of a challenge there, considering the other professors you've had," Tonks grinned. "I really do have to go. But once the term begins, we'll try to find some time for a gab. Not a word about this to anyone. I'm Professor Green."

"All right, Professor," Harry said. He thought of something. "Why did you send me a letter if you're going to be here?"

Tonks tapped the side of her nose significantly. "Wouldn't do to have special meetings with you regularly. It's suspicious."

"Oh," Harry said.

With a little wave goodbye, she strode off, complaining in a loud voice about the laxity of modern education.

"It's going to be a strange year, I think," Hermione said.

"Everything is upside down. Who would've thought we'd be here during summer?" Ron said lightly. "Next thing you know, we'll be on a beach in Madagascar for the Fall Term."

They all stared at him. 

"Was that a joke?" Hermione asked quietly.

Ron blinked. "Y-yes!" he sputtered, "of course!"

"It was nothing, Hermione," Harry assured her. "I mean, really, it's mad."

"I suppose it is," she agreed, looking at Ron with a fond smile.

"Let's go down the lake," Ron suggested, gazing at her adoringly.

Ginny crinkled her nose.

"I'm going to the kitchens," Harry said. "I'm starving. I'll catch up to you two later."

Ron looked uncomfortable.

"You're welcome to come, Harry," Hermione said anxiously.

"So long, Hermione," Ginny said with a grin, catching Harry by the arm, "Come on, Harry, you owe me breakfast. You made me miss mine."

"Thanks," Harry told her, once Ron and Hermione were out of earshot.

"Damn awkward, relationships," Ginny said. "Everything's always changing."

"Yes," Harry agreed fervently.

"How are you with those two getting together?" she asked bluntly.

"I'm glad for them," Harry said, "but it's…strange."

"You ought to look around," Ginny said, "and find someone to distract yourself with. There's a lot of girls here would swoon if you as much as talked to them."

"Me?"

"Yes, you, Harry Potter," she said. "The sad, wounded, lost-looking hero with endearingly messy hair. Got you Cho, didn't it?"

Harry stopped walking and looked at her. 

"Is that what Cho thought? Is that what you think?" he asked stiffly.

"You didn't notice that she was looking for someone to cry with?"

"I noticed," Harry said with a grimace. "And you?"

"Why do you care what I think?" she asked casually.

"I just do."

"Well," Ginny said slowly, "I think that you're the guy that takes me seriously."

Harry blinked. "I wasn't expecting that," he admitted. He stared at his trainers. "I-I'm not looking for a distraction," he said quietly to his feet, "I'm looking for—"

"Harry, might I have a word?" Albus Dumbledore said solemnly.

Harry, startled, jerked his head up, and felt his ears grow warm.

"We'll finish this conversation, Harry," Ginny promised. "I'll be just over there. If you'll excuse me, Headmaster."

"Of course. Thank you for your patience, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said, his eyes never leaving Harry.

"I thought it best, Harry, if I spoke to you in a less formal environment than my office," Dumbledore said after a moment. "Professor Snape has reported to me that you threatened him."

"I did."

"Harry, please be aware that all of us, and you in particular, are under intense scrutiny. A false step now could cause incalculable devastation."

"I'm to let him bully me and my friends?" Harry asked bitterly.

"Professor Snape, however lacking in the social graces, is not a bully, Harry."

"He is!" Harry disagreed angrily. "I can recognize them. I've lived with three of them since I was one."

Dumbledore did not respond; he simply watched Harry.

"What's a few more years of nasty comments and detentions compared to the good of the world and all that," Harry said sarcastically. "I should be well used to it by now, shouldn't I?"

"What others say about you doesn't change who you are," Dumbledore said gently. "None of it matters in the slightest."

Harry was struck by the realization that Dumbledore had no idea what a bully was. Had Albus Dumbledore ever been mistreated? Abused? Did he really understand what the Dursleys did to the baby that Dumbledore himself had left on their doorstep? Did Dumbledore grasp what Snape had been doing to him for nearly six years? 

 Harry felt the wrenching need to make him see, to make him understand. His throat tight, he started to talk. 

"M-my earliest memories are of Dudley's hands reaching through the bars of my crib to pinch me. I remember waking up screaming from a nightmare about a sickly green light, and Aunt Petunia getting out of bed to scream at me for waking Uncle Vernon, a-a-and her locking me up in the cupboard under the stairs for the first time. I think I was four. Dudley was laughing."

Harry looked away and ducked his head, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. "I will hex Snape. Don't tell me it's nothing," he said quietly, staring at the grass. "Don't you dare say that. You haven't the right."

There was a long silence. Harry looked up into the stricken face of Albus Dumbledore.

"And what you said about Sirius and Snape last year, sir, you were wrong. Words do hurt, Professor. I think they can kill."

It was the first time Harry had ever seen Albus Dumbledore at a loss for words.  "Harry, I—" Dumbledore fumbled, "I didn't...I…I will speak to Professor Snape." 

Harry simply stared at the ground.

"No one," Dumbledore said, sounding angry, "will hurt you again if it is within my power to stop it. Harry, please look at me."

Harry looked at him.

"I promise you," Dumbledore said.

The Headmaster turned and strode away. Harry wasn't sure how long he stood there. He didn't hear Ginny come back

"Come on, Harry" she told him quietly, taking his hand, "I'll bet Dobby can find some treacle tarts for us."

Harry nodded mutely and allowed himself to be pulled along.

TBC

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thanks for the reviews!

I had intended to post this weeks ago, but it went through a major rewrite or two.

This chapter came out far different than I intended. I can't keep seem to keep Harry and Ginny apart for very long. Not to be too fluffy, but man, put them in the same room together, and things just happen.


	6. Chapter Six The Strength which Moves Ear...

**Chapter Six.  **

**The Strength Which Moves Earth and Heaven**

Harry sat at a small table in the Hogwarts kitchens while house elves, led by Dobby, swirled around him, piling treacle tarts, tea, corned beef, bread, and condiments on the little table. 

"This is wonderful," Ginny told the house elf with a smile. "Thanks!"

"We is pleased to serve, Miss Wheazy, there is no need to be thanking us!" Dobby gushed, bobbing up and down with glee. 

"If we need anything else, I'll be sure to ask you," she said, slathering mustard on a slice of still-warm bread.

Dobby looked at Harry uncertainly for a minute but in a rare moment of restraint, scurried off without a word.

Ginny carefully constructed a sandwich that must have held a pound of corned beef. When she brought it up to take a bite, it hid her entire face. Somehow she managed a bite.

A ghost of a smile flitted across Harry's face. He absently picked up a treacle tart and ate it slowly. Then he ate another. He listened to the sounds of the busy house elves cooking and bustling about. He was glad the house elves were ignoring him. He just wished there were more witches and wizards like them.

He drank some tea and ate a third tart. 

"Mum says things always look a bit brighter after a good meal," Ginny said, still chewing with an extremely contended air. The sandwich was now small enough for her to hold in one hand.

"I suppose she's right," Harry replied quietly.

"If she is, you need more good meals than anyone I know," Ginny said. "Perhaps you should come here more often."

Harry stared at her. She looked at him calmly, taking another bite of corned beef.

"No one else talks to me like that," Harry said suddenly.

"How do I talk to you?" Ginny asked.

"Like that," Harry said.

Ginny rolled her eyes, chewing.

Harry frowned. "You're always straight with me. L-like you see _me_."

"What else would I see," Ginny asked, "a jobberknoll?"

"I don't know," Harry shrugged, "People are ready to believe anything about me. Maybe this year they'll think I'm a jobberknoll."

"I'll ask Luna," Ginny said with a grin. "If anyone out there thinks it, she'll know."

Harry smiled. "Maybe you should. One less thing to worry about."

They fell into a comfortable silence while Ginny finished her sandwich. She began eying the treacle tarts. "Do you mind?" she asked.

"Help yourself," Harry said, nudging the plate toward her. 

She took one, and he wondered how the petite girl managed to pack in all that food, even if she was a Weasley.

"Ginny," Harry blurted out, "I just want you to know that—"

"Harry! Ginny! I am so glad I found you!" Hermione said sounding relieved as she rushed towards them.

Harry felt he was going to start screaming in frustration. Why couldn't he ever finish a conversation with Ginny Weasley?

"I-it's Ron," she trembled, "he's h-had a-a fit."

"_WHAT_!" Ginny jumped up with a scream.

"He went all f-f-funny and blank," Hermione was saying, wringing her hands nervously, "a-a-and he started speaking in a voice that isn't his."

"He's fine," Harry said testily. "I saw it happen to Trelawney once. He's come out of it, hasn't he?"

"No," Hermione choked out. "He's with Madam Pomfrey, Firenze, and Dumbledore, now. They told me I could come back in thirty minutes."

Ginny looked terrified.

"He'll be fine, I'm sure," Harry said again with a little more concern. "What happened, anyway?"

"I-I was teaching him how to m-meditate," Hermione said, haltingly. "It-it's supposed to be good for Seers. Then he Said some things. After, he just sat there, his face blank. I-I t-tried asking him some questions, but he wouldn't answer. So I sent a m-m-message to Dumbledore. D-Dumbledore came right away, and we took him to the Infirmary. Professor Firenze was there waiting. They sent me out."

"What did he Say?" Harry asked.

"They took the original I wrote down, but I made another copy," she said, pulling a scrap of parchment out of her sleeve and holding it out to him. "I thought you should know about this," she said, looking scared and worried.

Harry took the wrinkled piece of parchment. Ginny was craning her neck, trying to read it sideways.

**_THE DARK LORD'S MINIONS SEEK TO STRIKE THE ADVERSARY… AND THE ADVERSARY WILL BE DRIVEN OUT…FOR THERE IS NO HAVEN FOR HIM IN THE LANDS OF ALBION…THE ADVERSARY WILL FIND HANDS RAISED AGAINST HIM ON EVERY SIDE…THERE IS NO HAVEN FOR HIM IN THE LANDS OF ALBION… _**

Harry shuddered. Numb, he handed to parchment to Ginny. 

"I want to see Ron," Ginny said fiercely, "let's go."

They were almost to the Infirmary when Dean eagerly called out, "Oi! Ginny! Fancy a walk?"

"Can't," Ginny said shortly, barely glancing at him, "not now."

"Right then, be that way," Dean muttered peevishly behind them.

In the Infirmary, there was just one other student, a girl with a mauve orchid growing out of her left ear. Ron was lying in bed, scratching his armpit.

"You're back!" Hermione squealed.

"Yeah," Ron said uncomfortably. 

Ginny let out a long shuddering breath and gave her brother a quick hug.

They huddled close around his bed.

"Having fits, going funny, it isn't much fun, is it?" Ron told Harry.

"No, not really," Harry fervently agreed. 

"Why didn't you come out of it right away?" Hermione asked.

"They told me it was because I was meditating," Ron whispered. "I think they asked the…the Voice or whatever…some questions. I think it answered some of them."

"I tried that, but it didn't work for me," Hermione said sheepishly, "although I suppose I should have thought of something more original than, 'Ron, are you in there?'"

"They wouldn't tell me what I said," Ron complained quietly.

Wordlessly, Ginny handed him the scrap of parchment.

Ron began cursing softly. 

"What's Albion?" Harry asked.

"It's an old name for the British Isles," Hermione said, looking nervous.

He was going to be forced out of Hogwarts and out of England. Thoughts of being alone, in a foreign country, away from the protections of Hogwarts or even of Number Four Privet Drive, left Harry feeling ill. He sat down on the edge of Ron's bed and rubbed his scar. 

"He's going to find me," he finally said miserably.

"I'm not letting you go anywhere alone," Ron said stoutly.

Hermione brow was furrowed in thought.

"What are you thinking?" Ginny asked her.

Hermione blinked and looked at Harry. "No, Harry, he won't find you," she whispered, "because you are going to master Occlumency, and you are going learn how to look like other people. He won't be able to hunt you by sight or by thought, even if he does succeed in getting you out of Hogwarts."

"We won't abandon you, Harry," Ginny said confidently, "and I bet Dumbledore already has lots of safe places for you to hide. He vanished last year, and even the Ministry couldn't find him, could they?"

Ron snorted. "That's not saying much. The Ministry couldn't find Fudge's arse with a map to his office and a diagram of his chair."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked.

"Ginny's right, though," Harry said, feeling better, "Dumbledore would never leave me unprotected. He'd have a plan." 

He noticed that Hermione was holding Ron's hand and remembered Madam Pomfrey's time limit.

"I'll be going, then," Harry said quickly, "loads to do." Ignoring the baffled looks on his friends' faces, he fled the Infirmary.  He had no idea how to act, what to do or what to say around Ron and Hermione when they were being all _gushy_ and stuff. 

Hurrying out of the Infirmary, Harry felt a sudden, irrational urge to run away and hide in his old cupboard. Life there was simple—everyone he had known hated him, and he hadn't held much hope of anything else. When, he wondered, did everything get so complicated?

Ginny caught up to him in the corridor. "Why did you run out of there in such a hurry?" she asked peevishly, trotting alongside him. "I think you hurt Ron's feelings."

"Difficult day," he said shortly.

Ginny stopped him and looked at him levelly. "And his day's just been a walk by the lake, has it? Ron needed you, and you walked out on him."

Guiltily, Harry hung his head. "I'll get him some Chocolate Frogs," he mumbled.

Ginny puffed up and put one her hand on her hip. The other pointed back to the Infirmary.  "Get your arse back in there, Potter, and at least pretend you care about someone else's feelings."

Harry reddened. Ginny glared at him, still pointing at the Infirmary.

_Is that what she really thinks_? Harry wondered. _That I don't care_? 

Not sure what to say, and feeling embarrassed, Harry avoided looking her in the eyes and slunk back towards the Infirmary.  

Nervously, he tried to flatten his hair as he opened the Infirmary door. The girl with the orchid in her ear watched him curiously.

Hermione was sitting on the bed, holding Ron's hand. They were talking quietly until they noticed Harry.

"Er," he said, clearing his throat, "do you need anything, Ron?"

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," Ron said coolly.

Harry stared at the leg of Ron's bed. "I didn't want to intrude," he explained quietly.

"That's very considerate of you, Harry," Hermione said primly, "but everything would be a lot less complicated if you allowed us to arrange our own dates."

Ron smiled suddenly, and Harry grinned back sheepishly.

"Two minutes! He'll be out in time for tomorrow's breakfast. You can pester him then!" Madam Pomfrey barked as she bustled past them with a smoking goblet intended for the orchid girl.

"I'll be back later," Hermione whispered to Ron.

Harry, trying to avoid seeing anything disturbing, watched Madam Pomfrey.

"What's that?" the orchid girl asked apprehensively.

"Weed killer," Madam Pomfrey replied bluntly, handing her the goblet. "I can pull the plant, but I'm not certain that it won't re-sprout, so you'll have to take this daily for the next week."

The girl groaned.

When Hermione and Ron had finished doing whatever it was that Harry didn't see, he said a quick goodbye to Ron. 

"We should research defense spells," Hermione told him earnestly as they left the Infirmary.

Harry yawned and nodded. The Library was quiet enough; maybe he could find a corner for a quick nap. _It's been a long day_, he thought, trudging after Hermione. 

Just outside the Library, they saw three Ravenclaw girls talking. 

"_Really_! Both of them?"

"But they're both so _cute—" _

"—and she's not _that_ pretty—" 

"—sort of scrawny, if you know what I mean—"

"—And that awful orange hair—"

"Did you, like, see the robes she was wearing today?"

" Let me guess—frayed? Gray?"

"And Dean's a sweetheart!"

"He smiled at me yesterday!"

"NO! He didn't!"

"He _did_!"

Harry was shocked. How could they talk about Ginny like that?

Hermione bit her lip.

One of the girls, looking over her friend's shoulder, saw Harry and squeaked in surprise.

"What's going on?" Hermione demanded, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

The girls looked terrified.

A grim-faced Hermione backed one of the girls against the wall. "Out with it, then."

The girl was shaking. "P-people are s-s-saying that Ha-Harry and D-D-Dean and Ginny are, well, ahhh, _friends, _you see, and ummm--"

"That's quite enough," Hermione snapped.  "Do something constructive, or I'll speak with Professor Flitwick about finding you something to do."

The girls, looking a bit like panic-stricken rabbits, fled.

"Stupid," Harry muttered after them. "Stupid gossip. Stupid rumours."

"Come on," Hermione urged, pulling him into the Library.

He was aware that Hermione was watching him anxiously as they entered the stacks. 

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked him after a moment.

"How can they talk about people like that?" Harry asked.

"I really don't know," Hermione said sympathetically.

Harry shook his head wearily.  "Every year. It's the same thing every year."

Hermione nodded and turned into an aisle. 

"It will blow over. It always does," she said confidently, running a finger along a row of books. 

Harry had his doubts.

Occasionally pulling a book off the shelf to scan the contents, Hermione handed the ones she liked to Harry.  She paused over a massive, leather-bound tome. The cover was splattered with reddish-brown stains that looked very much like dried blood.

"Yuck," she said, pushing the book toward Harry.  "You can look through that one." 

The tome was entitled _What to Do When Neighbors Attack, _by Gunnar Hildrason. Judging by the bloodstains on the cover, Harry did not have a lot of confidence in the book's contents.

"Oi, Hermione," Harry grunted, "I don't think I can carry any more than this."

Without waiting for a reply, he staggered out of the stacks and tipped the pile of books onto the nearest available table.

Madam Pince stalked silently over and eyed Harry suspiciously. He supposed she was recalling last year's chocolate egg incident. 

_Why me?_ he thought morosely.

Ignoring the librarian, he sprawled across from Hermione with the big, bloodstained book propped up in front of him so he would look busy while he brooded. He watched the moving drawing of manticore dancing on the title page and gloomily debated what everyone was going to think of him this year—would he be mad, vain or evil?

Harry was suddenly jarred into to consciousness. Hermione was shaking him. "McGonagall, Harry! McGonagall's detention! You're going to be late!" she screeched.

Harry jumped up and ran out of the library with Hermione close behind him. Gasping, he burst into McGonagall's office and skidded to a stop.

Hermione, unable to stop herself in time, smashed into his back. Harry stumbled forward.

"Mr. Potter," the Head of Gryffindor House said sternly, "you cut that a bit close. I do not look kindly on tardiness. Please arrange your schedule accordingly."

"Sorry, Professor," Harry said, "I fell asleep in the Library, and—"

"You have a dormitory, Potter. I believe there's a bed in it," McGonagall said, cutting him off. "You are to clean the Transfiguration Classroom. Mr. Filch has left cleaning supplies there for you." She held out her hand.

With a sigh, Harry gave her his wand.

"You are not to help him, Miss Granger," McGonagall added.

"Of course, Professor, " Hermione said, "he earned this all by himself, didn't he?"

Hermione and McGonagall shared remarkably similar expressions.

"I see we understand each other perfectly, Miss Granger," McGonagall nodded. "Off with you, then."

Harry chose not to speak with her until the reached the Transfiguration Classroom.

"You don't have to stay," Harry told her coolly, as he pushed the door open.

"You know very well that I'm not going to leave alone," Hermione replied placidly.

Harry grunted in reply and walked over to a pile of cleaning supplies and nudged it with his foot. All in all, this was a pretty light detention. The term hadn't started yet, so the classroom was already tidy, just dusty. 

Hermione slid into the seat she usually occupied in Transfiguration, pulled a book out of her bag and started reading.  

With a sigh, Harry picked up a rag and some cleaning solution and headed towards the windows. He worked silently to the sound of turning pages. Between growing up with the Dursleys and five years' worth of detentions, he was quite the expert at this sort of thing. 

"Harry?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

He looked up.

"What was it like? The duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort, I mean?" Hermione asked. "I've read _Great Duels of the Twentieth Century_, of course, but to actually see something like that…" Hermione trailed off, looking anxious.

Harry put down the dusting rag and sat down on the floor. He realized that she had probably wanted to ask him about this since the end of last term. He was conflicted. On one hand, it had been an amazing thing to see, and it had definitely expanded his understanding of magical combat. On the other, he was certain that he would not survive a duel with Voldemort, a duel that almost certainly was coming. He sighed.

"You don't have to—"

Harry held up his hand. "No, I should tell you." He paused to gather his thoughts. "It started when Dumbledore strode into the Atrium. Voldemort was already there…"

Harry focused himself on the memory of the duel, each blow, curse, and countercurse. It helped to avoid other, more uncomfortable memories and thoughts that crowded in too close. 

"Merlin," Hermione breathed, when he was done.

Harry picked up his rag and went back to dusting tabletops.

"Harry, I know that you are—" 

He did not want to hear whatever she was going to say, so he interrupted her. "What was that silvery stuff, anyway?"

"Thought," Hermione said simply. "They were conjuring thoughts."

Harry felt a knot of panic form in his stomach._ I'm a goner. I don't have a chance. He's going to kill me. He's going to pin me to a wall like a bug. Then he's going to kill Hermione, and Ron and Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley, Remus and Tonks. The twins. Charlie and Bill. I-I can't stop him— _

Harry shook himself. _No. Stop this right now, Potter. Think, come on…_

_Oh, bugger, he's just too powerful to fight. I can't win, can I? Snape was right.  I'm not Dumbledore. _

_I'm Harry, just Harry—_

"I need to learn," he said suddenly.  

"I don't know if that's possible," Hermione said doubtfully. "People study for ages to learn how to conjure thoughts."

"No,' Harry said grimly. "I need to learn about myself."

**To be continued**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Notes:

First, thanks for the all the reviews and apologies for the delay in posting this.  

A Jobberknoll is a tiny bird that never makes a sound until the moment of its death. Then it screams out every sound it has ever heard. It reminds me of Harry a bit. He holds everything in, then lets it all fly, all at once.

_What to Do When Neighbors Attack, By Gunnar Hildrason_ was inspired by the Icelandic epic, _Njal's Saga_. After a heroic defense, Gunnar was indeed killed by his neighbors in his own house. 


	7. Chapter Seven Decent Not To Fail in Offi...

Chapter Seven.  
Decent Not To Fail in Offices of Tenderness  
  
After Harry's announcement, Hermione, eyes wide, her mouth a perfect "O", had blinked a few times before scrambling for a clean sheet of parchment.  
  
She scribbled furiously, while Harry finished cleaning the Transfiguration Classroom. She was still writing as Harry piled cleaning supplies outside the classroom door for Filch to collect.  
  
They walked back to Gryffindor Tower in silence. Hermione, lost in thought, would've run into a suit of armor if Harry hadn't grabbed her arm and guided her around it.  
  
Harry himself uncomfortably pondered the vague realization he had come to in the Transfiguration Classroom.  
  
He remembered Crouch, when he was disguised as Moody before the First Task of the TriWizard Tournament, telling him to play to his strengths. But what were his strengths?  
  
He admitted to himself that he a decent dueller, but he also knew that he wasn't good enough. He knew he was a good seeker, but he didn't see how being a good seeker could help him defeat Voldemort.  
  
He sighed. As much as he wanted to follow Ginny's advice and ignore the prophecy, he couldn't. He didn't like to think about the power the Dark Lord knows not, but he had to figure it out if he could. The answer was locked away inside himself somewhere, and if he couldn't find it out, they were all doomed.  
  
The Common Room was nearly empty. Hermione mumbled a distracted good night to him, and Harry climbed the stairs to his Dormitory.  
  
He changed into pyjamas and closed his bed-curtains. He didn't think he could sleep, so he sat cross-legged on his bed and read the next Metamorphmagus exercise from Tonks by wand light.  
  
He blushed slightly as he carefully reread it. He hadn't really noticed this exercise before.  
  
Concentrating hard on her directions, Harry grew a thick, luxuriant patch of blond hair on the palm of his left hand. Shocked that it had worked, he glanced around nervously to make sure no one could see him. He hastily concentrated again and the hair vanished. Grimly he resolved to get past this exercise as quickly as possible.  
  
He experimented with creating different hair colors, as Tonks had directed, and only had trouble with red. The color stubbornly refused to become anything but a reddish ginger, which, to Harry's horror, distinctly resembled Ginny's hair.  
  
Promising himself he would find a way to repay Tonks, he switched to the Occlumency exercise he had promised Dumbledore.  
  
The term hasn't started yet, and I'm already buried in homework, he grumbled. He shrugged off that thought and tried to clear his mind. Minutes ticked by, and he found himself thinking that he would be much more comfortable lying down.  
  
Focused on an image of the Hogwarts Lake in winter, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.  
  
Dean woke Harry up with a not so gentle nudge. It took him a few seconds to realize why Dean Thomas was poking him in the ribs before dawn.  
  
With a grunt, he dressed and grabbed his practice gear. Harry silently hoped for a cup of tea before Ginny spent the morning pounding him into a pulp.  
  
The two boys walked down the steps to the Common Room.  
  
"It's really good of you to tutor Ginny," said Dean coolly.  
  
"Huh?" Harry blinked.  
  
Dean looked a bit suspicious. "She said you were helping her."  
  
"I am." Harry shrugged.  
  
Ginny was sitting in a chair next to a table that held a battered teapot and several mismatched cups. Eyes swollen with sleep, she was holding a teacup with both hands.  
  
"Morning!" said Dean brightly.  
  
Ginny mumbled something.  
  
Harry poured himself a cup of tea and drank it down as quickly as he could.  
  
When he was finished, he picked up his practice things. "Ready?" he asked.  
  
Harry led them out of the Common Room and up to the third floor of the castle. Around the corner from the Room of Requirement, he stopped them. He really didn't want Dean Thomas knowing how to find and use the Room. "Wait here," he told them.  
  
Dean and Ginny looked at him oddly, but they both did as he asked.  
  
When the door appeared, Harry called them over.  
  
The Room had arranged itself into a bare stone chamber with a springy floor that felt like forest loam.  
  
Ginny unceremoniously dropped her things in the center of the room and rolled her head around her shoulders. Dean hovered uncertainly nearby.  
  
"Right," said Ginny, taking a deep breath. "Dean, you face me...back up a bit...hold there...this is called Tai Chi—"  
  
"Cool," said Dean.  
  
"Heard of it? Good," Ginny smiled. "I will talk you through the movements."  
  
Harry thought it best to stand beside Dean and settled in on his left. He didn't know Tai Chi all that well. His mannequin had shown him Ba Kua, so he had been practicing that all summer.  
  
"Stand like this," Ginny began, watching Dean mimic her stance. "Feet a bit further apart...Good, that's fine. Now then, deep breath...OK...your hands...your hands are floating up. The ground is gently pushing them upwards..."  
  
Harry focused on the slow, fluid movements and Ginny's slow, calm voice. He lost all sense of time as the exercise progressed.  
  
"Amazing," Dean grinned as they finished. "That was amazing."  
  
Ginny smiled happily at him. "It is, isn't?"  
  
The Ba Kua form required more room, so Harry, feeling a bit irritated, walked a few paces away and waited for Ginny and Dean to stop smiling at each other.  
  
He looked down and saw that two black circles had appeared on the floor. Directly across from him, the two circles briefly touched, creating a large figure eight.  
  
"I think you should sit this one out, Dean," Ginny told him, "it's harder to follow."  
  
Dean sat down against the wall and waited expectantly.  
  
Harry had the feeling that Ginny thought things were going far better than she had expected it to.  
  
Harry, still feeling tetchy, began before she was settled, so she was a movement behind as they reached the point their circles intersected.  
  
It happened in slow motion. As Harry's left hand, palm open, pushed forward, Ginny's left arm came down and brushed it out of the way.  
  
He saw Ginny's eyes widen in shock even as they continued with the form. They circled around three more times and clashed each time in slow motion.  
  
Ginny bounded over to Harry. ""Let's try that again," she said excitedly.  
  
"All right, but let's follow the form again," agreed Harry.  
  
So they did, circling around each other in slow motion. Ginny skipped the first movement, and it turned out that one of them was always executing an offensive move when the other was defending.  
  
"Oooh, very cool," said Ginny happily as they finished. "We have to experiment with this some."  
  
"Maybe next time. We should spar," Harry said stiffly. He didn't like Ginny using the word "cool".  
  
Without warning, 'giddy-happy' Ginny vanished, and she eyed him with that closed-off look she had perfected.  
  
It's like watching a door close, Harry thought irrelevantly.  
  
"Right," she calmly agreed.  
  
Harry turned away to find his things. He shrugged into his padded vest and picked up his practice stick.  
  
The Room had changed the two circles into one. Ginny was showing Dean the basic movements with an extra sparring stick that she had brought with her. He looked doubtful.  
  
She stepped away and moved into the en garde position in front of Dean. Dean mimicked her, and they went through a slow motion lunge, parry, riposte, parry, and lunge sequence.  
  
"Good," approved Ginny.  
  
"Is that all there is to it?" Dean asked in surprise.  
  
"Basically, yes," said Ginny, attempting to smother a smile. "Ready, Harry?"  
  
Harry stepped into the circle, as did Ginny.  
  
"One," called Ginny.  
  
"Two," Harry responded.  
  
"Three," Ginny finished, lunging at him.  
  
Harry parried the lunge and responded with a series of wild, quick slashes that Ginny blocked as she retreated. He overextended slightly on the last attack, and his stick went too far out of line for him to recover as quickly as he should have. Ginny poked him in the ribs.  
  
They broke apart, Harry rubbing the spot she'd hit.  
  
He risked a glance at Dean who looked stunned.  
  
"Dean," said Ginny, "you call it this time."  
  
Dean let out an explosive breath. "Er...all right...umm, ready? One..."  
  
Harry stepped backwards, whipped out his wand and turned around quickly, muttering a spell.  
  
"...Two..."  
  
He turned back around, but kept his stick behind his back. Ginny was staring at him suspiciously.  
  
"...Three!" Dean yelled.  
  
Ginny immediately dropped into a defensive stance as Harry attacked with what appeared to be nothing but a ripple in the air.  
  
Surprised, she parried wildly. Harry stepped inside her guard and tapped her on the shoulder.  
  
She backed away, staring at his right hand.  
  
Harry grinned at her. "I disillusioned it."  
  
"That's not bloody fair," Dean told him angrily.  
  
"I didn't intend it to be," replied Harry smugly.  
  
"How she supposed to learn if she can't see what you're doing?" retorted Dean.  
  
"That's enough," Ginny said to Dean. "Whatever gave you the impression Harry was teaching me?"  
  
"You said he was helping, and I thought that meant—"  
  
"You thought wrong," Ginny told him curtly. "He's helping me, not teaching me."  
  
Harry was secretly pleased that Dean had gotten himself in a bit of trouble.  
  
"I'll count this time," said Ginny intently.  
  
The match was prolonged. Ginny, since she couldn't see Harry's stick, had to follow his hand and estimate where the end of it was. She kept her stick very close to centerline and parried conservatively as close to his hand as she could while circling away from him.  
  
Harry, trying to edge her out of the circle, stalked after her as she backed away. They intermittently clashed.  
  
Harry finally managed to crowd her against the line, and there was a blindingly fast volley of cracks as they swung, stabbed, parried—  
  
--And suddenly, Harry saw stars.  
  
His head throbbed, and he realized that he was on his back. He gingerly reached up and encountered an enormous knot on his forehead above the hairline.  
  
"Ouch," he gasped, opening his eyes.  
  
Everything was hazy. A blurry Ginny was staring down at him.  
  
He grinned weakly. "Ouch, but Voldemort's done worse."  
  
He heard Dean gasp.  
  
"I think we should be using helmets," said Ginny, helping him up. "D'you need to see Pomfrey?"  
  
"No," said Harry firmly.  
  
"I think we're finished this morning," Ginny said, handing him his glasses.  
  
"Tomorrow, then?" Harry asked.  
  
Ginny nodded and began collecting her things. "With some kind of headgear," she added over her shoulder.  
  
"Ginny, you just knocked Harry Potter unconscious," said Dean, smugly.  
  
"Brilliant, isn't she?" Harry grimaced ruefully, feeling the throbbing knot on his forehead. "I thought I could beat her with a disillusioned stick."  
  
"Maybe if you had disillusioned yourself and the stick," she said matter-of- factly, from across the room, "but I doubt it."  
  
Dean hesitated. "Why? Why are you doing this? I mean, it's fun and all, but why are you lot going at it so hard?"  
  
"That was an accident," Ginny shrugged.  
  
Harry collected his things and was pleased that the pain in his head was lessening to a dull throb. The three students left the Room of Requirement and walked in silence. Dean still looked deeply puzzled.  
  
"Still, why are you so serious about this?" he asked Ginny.  
  
"I don't like feeling helpless," Ginny said with finality.  
  
Dean did not seem willing let it drop. "But why not learn curses or something else that—"  
  
"Wands can be lost or broken or taken," interrupted Harry. "Death Eaters wouldn't expect a blade, would they?"  
  
Dean stopped walking and stared at Ginny. "Death Eaters? What's this about? Why are you expecting to run into Death Eaters?"  
  
The question hung there.  
  
Harry tried desperately to think of a way to stop the conversation, but his mind was a blank.  
  
"You know why. There's a war going on, Dean," Ginny told him quietly.  
  
"There's plenty of qualified witches and wizards fighting You-Know-Who now. The Ministry was a bit slow, but they're on it now, and Dumbledore's out there as well," Dean objected, "we're just teenagers."  
  
"Remember Anthony Goldstein? His family?" said Ginny bitterly. "He's a dead teenager."  
  
Harry started to edge away. He did not want to hear this.  
  
"This is not about Anthony at all, is it? This is about him," Dean replied in a cool voice pointing at Harry.  
  
Harry froze.  
  
"You leave Harry out of this," said Ginny quietly.  
  
"I'm not stupid," retorted Dean.  
  
"No, don't—" Harry started.  
  
"You're going to go running off every time Harry here does something mad...every time You-Know-Who tries to kill him, aren't you?" Dean accused her.  
  
"You have no idea what you are talking about, Dean Thomas!" said Ginny, white with fury.  
  
"Then tell me," said Dean angrily. "I'm sure Harry knows."  
  
Ginny paused, her look unreadable.  
  
Harry started to say something, but Ginny stopped him with a gesture.  
  
"You're right, Dean," said Ginny heatedly, "Harry does know!"  
  
"He knows there's a BLOODY WAR GOING ON!"  
  
"He knows that VOLDEMORT kills CHILDREN!"  
  
"He knows that what it's like to have nightmares about everyone you love DYING PAINFULLY!"  
  
"HE KNOWS BECAUSE HIS FAMILY IS DEAD! AND IF YOU EVER SPEAK OF HARRY LIKE THAT AGAIN, I'LL HURT YOU BADLY, YOU STUPID, INSENSITIVE PRAT!"  
  
Dean blinked.  
  
Ginny glared at him. "Yes, Harry knows. Harry knows what it's like to have a Dark Lord stalk you. He's seen my Mum hysterical, thinking about which of her children is going to die. Outside this school, we can't use a loo without an armed escort. Between terms, my family hides in nasty old houses and abandoned castles. My home is still burning because no one can figure out how to put the ruddy fires out!"  
  
"Did you think I was playing a game when I told you my life wasn't all rainbows and unicorns? No worries, you said," she spat, "Bollocks!"  
  
Ginny's look was icy. Dean flinched away from her.  
  
"I just wanted to date a nice boy. I just wanted to be a normal teenage witch for a little while," said Ginny bitterly, "but Voldemort won't even leave me that."  
  
Dean just stared at her.  
  
"I don't know what to say," he finally said.  
  
"You don't have to say anything, then."  
  
"We're through, though, aren't we?" asked Dean thickly.  
  
"Well, it was like we were friends with snogging rights, anyway," Ginny shot back.  
  
For a second, Dean looked simultaneously hurt and relieved, but he hid it quickly. "Maybe we can still be friends?" he asked.  
  
"Good-bye, Dean," Ginny said flatly. "I've left a book in the Room of Requirement. Harry, can you get me back in there?"  
  
"Er...OK," Harry blinked.  
  
Dean glared at Harry for a moment and then abruptly walked away.  
  
She turned back to the Room of Requirement, and Harry followed her.  
  
The door simply appeared when he reached it, but before Harry could even ponder that, Ginny darted in, and he followed.  
  
The only object in the room was an overstuffed chair near the door. Ginny kicked it hard. Then she kicked it again, toppling it over. Another chair appeared, and she kicked that one too.  
  
Harry felt responsible. If he hadn't opened his mouth, none of this would have happened. He stood nervously by the door, unsure whether he should help or leave. Then he remembered the scene outside of the Infirmary.  
  
Ginny kicked the second chair until it toppled. She continued to kick at it, cursing to herself. He hesitantly approached her, and after standing there undecided for a few seconds, gingerly reached out and touched her shoulder from behind. She seemed to relax a little.  
  
"Er..." Harry started," are you...ah...OK?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
The silence lengthened.  
  
"Ummm, thanks," said Ginny, "thanks for staying with me."  
  
The silence grew uncomfortable.  
  
"I wish I could be normal, too," said Harry quietly.  
  
"But there's nothing for it, is there?" Ginny said turning around to face him. "Merlin, I've made a mess of things."  
  
Harry didn't answer immediately. "Are you hungry?" he finally asked. "Things always look up after a meal."  
  
"Serves me right, having my own advice thrown back at me," Ginny sighed. "I suppose I should."  
  
Harry concentrated on breakfast, and a table appeared already set for breakfast. The two chairs Ginny had battered disappeared and then quickly reappeared upright and repaired.  
  
They ate in silence. Harry surreptitiously glanced at her now and again, but she resolutely avoided his eyes, glowering intently down at her plate.  
  
Harry wracked his head trying to think of something to talk about.  
  
"You know," Harry said suddenly, "I've never seen your animagus form."  
  
Ginny glanced up at him. There was a soft pop, and Ginny disappeared. Before Harry could blink, a blue-gray cat with ginger-coloured eyes leapt onto the table and sniffed at the plate of bacon. The cat teased a rasher off the plate, and holding it between her front paws, proceeded to gnaw on it.  
  
When Harry finished eating, he lazily watched Ginny for a moment. Then a mischievous thought struck him, and he concentrated hard. He looked around and, with a grin, retrieved the knotted up tangle of yarn on the floor beside him.  
  
With his hands under the table, he teased one end out of the bird's nest of yarn. Keeping a hold on the string, he flicked the knotted-up end onto the table. It arched upwards and fluttered down beside the cat. It caught her attention.  
  
Harry watched this out of the corner of his eye. With his hand still hidden, he pulled gently on the line. The knotted ball of yarn twitched, and the cat tensed suddenly, completely focused on the yarn.  
  
Harry gave the line another quick yank, and the cat pounced on it, rolling over onto its back and tearing into the yarn with all four feet.  
  
Harry, trying not to laugh, doubled over choking.  
  
The cat, still on its back, froze and rotated its head towards Harry.  
  
After a moment, the cat untangled itself, rolled onto its feet and jumped off the table.  
  
Ginny appeared with a soft pop. "I suppose you think that was funny?" she asked, resuming her seat.  
  
"No," replied Harry, "but now I know what to get you for Christmas."  
  
"Ha, ha," Ginny deadpanned. Then she grinned. "You had better not. I'm expecting something much better than a ball of yarn from you, Harry Potter."  
  
"We'll see," Harry grinned.  
  
"You know, we do seem to spend a lot of time eating together," he said hesitantly. "Since we're practicing in the morning anyway, would you like to have breakfast here with me?"  
  
She made a face. "Once the term begins, I'm not sure we'll be able to manage it. You'll be busy, and this is my OWL year." She paused. "What about...Sunday morning breakfast?" Ginny asked tentatively. "In the kitchens?"  
  
A standing weekly date! Harry thought happily. "It's a date, then," he said aloud.  
  
Ginny's eyes grew wary. "Is it?" she asked quietly.  
  
"I think I'd like it to be," Harry admitted slowly.  
  
"When you say something like that, it's customary to be sure," Ginny said pointedly.  
  
"I'm sure," said Harry.  
  
He thought that she seemed pale and fragile sitting in the big overstuffed chair, nearly all of her hidden behind the table.  
  
"Well then, the cat's among the pixies now," she muttered.  
  
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  
  
"You know what this means, don't you?" said Ginny firmly, "we have to Talk."  
  
"Talk?"  
  
"Yes, Talk. You know, where I blather on, and you grunt when you think it's appropriate. Maybe you even try and string a few thoughts together, but I'm trying not to get my hopes up too high."  
  
Despite a clenching knot in his stomach, Harry nodded. He felt distinctly uncomfortable as he guiltily suppressed the urge to make an encouraging sound.  
  
"This is complicated," said Ginny bluntly. ""The way I feel about you is complicated. There's the war. My family. You're not at all like Dean."  
  
Oh," Harry said, his gaze dropping to his empty plate.  
  
"That's not what I meant," Ginny said quickly. "I am trying to say that we have a history together. What happens if we date and things don't work out? What if we fight and break up? Do you want howlers from Mum if we muck it up? I certainly don't. Have you thought about any this?"  
  
"I thought," Harry mumbled, searching for the right thing to say. "I thought we should maybe, ummm, work this out together."  
  
Ginny's mouth dropped open.  
  
"I mean, it's not really fair to either of us any other way, is it?"  
  
Ginny gaped at him. "Are you really Harry James Potter?"  
  
Harry waited and silently thanked Snuffles.  
  
"Right," said Ginny carefully. "Maybe we should, ahhh, take things slowly. "You know, have our weekly breakfast date and see what happens. Maybe even have a Talk now and again. But promise me one thing—if this doesn't work out, will you try to stay my friend?"  
  
"Yes," Harry nodded fervently. He stood up, knowing there was a ridiculously big smile on his face, and took her hand. "Umm, thanks Ginny."  
  
She smiled brightly at him and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.  
  
"You know, I didn't grunt, not even once," he said.  
  
To be continued... 


End file.
